Mr Potter Goes to Smallville
by JBean210
Summary: In 2011, after personal and professional setbacks, Harry Potter decides to leave Britain and travel to the United States, where no one ever heard of him and the Ministry will never suspect he's gone. But after a chance meeting on the flight over, he decides to live in a certain small town in the middle of the country — Smallville, Kansas.
1. I'm Leaving, On a Jet Plane

**.**

**Chapter One  
****I'm Leaving, On a Jet Plane****  
**

_Published_ 9/14/2013

Harry Potter sat in a departure lounge in London's Heathrow Airport, waiting for his flight to leave. The ticket in his jacket had a bewildering jumble of information on it, but as best he could decipher, he would leave Heathrow and arrive at JFK Airport seven or eight hours later. He took it out and stared at it a while, then stuffed it back into his jacket. He'd gotten a reasonable price on a round-trip ticket, equal to about 100 Galleons if he stayed in America for at least two weeks, but that didn't matter much — he was never coming back to Britain. There was nothing left for him here.

The overnight bag at his feet was packed with a change of Muggle clothing, a toothbrush, a comb (one he hadn't used in years) and nothing else. His _real_ baggage was a mokeskin pouch hidden in a secret pocket in his jacket, a pocket no Muggle scanning device could detect; it had been charmed by his friend Hermione Weasley, neé Granger, years ago when he had become an Auror working for Gawain Robards. Eventually, in 2007, Harry took over as Head of the Auror Office himself. But now…

"Flight 29 for New York will begin boarding at Gate 77 shortly," a voice announced over the public address system. Harry put aside his thoughts, picked up his carry-on, and began moving toward the boarding area. In a few minutes he and magical Britain would be quits forever.

He joined the line of people getting on the flight and gave his ticket to the attendant. A tortuously slow walk down the aerobridge to the plane, then a twisting, turning slog through the crowded aisles to find his seat: 49C. This plane was not as big as he'd imagined; there was barely room for six seas in each row with a thin walkway through the middle of them. Fortunately, his seat was on the aisle, so he wouldn't be boxed in on both sides.

Unfortunately, when he arrived at 49C someone was already in his seat. A pretty brown-haired woman with hazel eyes sat reading a magazine, steadily ignoring him as Harry stood there, waiting for her to look up. "Excuse me, ma'am," Harry finally said. "I believe you're sitting in my seat."

The young lady looked up at him. "I don't think so, bright eyes," she said, tapping the set number on the overhead compartment. "Seat 48C."

Harry smiled thinly. "This is seat 49C," he said. "That's 48C," he added, pointing to the seat in front of them.

"What? No it's not," the young lady said, leaning out to look at the overhead. "It says right there — er —" She read the seat number then turned back to Harry, smiling wryly. "Oops, my bad," she said, gathering a purse and a carry-on from beneath the seat in front of her. Harry stepped back to let her into the aisle. "Sorry, she said, sliding into the seat ahead of him and doing her best to disappear behind it.

"No problem," Harry murmured, taking the seat she'd vacated and dropping his carry-on under the seat where hers had been. He closed his eyes, finally able to enjoy a moment without being on alert. He'd half-expected a trio of Aurors to show up at Heathrow and try to bring him back to the Ministry.

But he still wasn't out of the woods yet, he reminded himself. While it was unlikely that anyone at the Ministry would suspect he was leaving Britain by such conventional methods, Ron might've been able to figure it out if Harry had given him any idea that he was planning on leaving. But Ron was still a Weasley and family was family; he would have no choice but to side with Ginny publicly, no matter what he thought personally about what she was doing.

"You know, I'm not usually quite so absent-minded," a voice said, and Harry opened his eyes again. The girl in the seat ahead was looking at him over the back. "I've just been really busy here in London the past few days, finishing up a European perspective piece on the 'Contact Event.'"

"Oh," Harry said, having no idea what she was talking about.

The girl gave him a penetrating look. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

After a moment Harry shook his head.

"You're joking, right? It's only the biggest story of the decade!" she exclaimed, incredulous. "Maybe the century. Maybe even the millennium! Have you been hiding under a rock or something?"

"Not really," Harry said, becoming a bit irritated with her attitude. "I've been busy, too."

"Oh, really?" Now she sounded almost condescending. "What do you do?"

"I'm an — in…security work," Harry hedged. Obviously he wasn't going to explain what being Head Auror (actually _ex_-Head Auror now) for magical Britain entailed.

"Oh, did you finally run out of donuts?" the young woman sneered. When Harry didn't react, she shrugged. "I guess that's more of an American joke. Anyway, sorry to take up your _valuable_ time, Mr. Security Man." She gave him a mocking salute then turned around and disappeared from view again.

Harry sighed to himself, closing his eyes again, desperately hoping that neither she nor anyone else would bother him again during the flight. The pilot announced they were getting into position for takeoff, and a few minutes later the plane lifted into the air. He was finally out of Britain forever.

Once the initial excitement of being on a jet airplane for the first time wore off, there really wasn't much to do. There were earphones for listening to music and several channels to select from, but Harry wasn't much interested in that. He could've used a butterbeer to calm his nerves but there obviously wasn't going to be any on a Muggle flight; he wasn't even sure if they served alcohol on these flights or not. There were screens on the backs of each seat to watch movies on, but the moment the plane was in the air the girl in the seat ahead of him leaned her chair back so it was almost in Harry's lap and began to snore. Harry couldn't see the screen in front of him, even if he _had_ wanted to watch _Cowboys & Aliens_.

Which left — what? Contemplation of his life for the past few years? No, he'd had more than enough time for self-recrimination and doubts about what he was doing. The change was _done_ — he was out of Britain, free from Ginny, and that was that.

Harry sighed again. There was a certain bittersweet finality to leaving; he would never see Ginny again, and thank Merlin for that, but it was true he would never see his children James, Albus or Lily again, either, nor his best friend Ron, nor all of the other people who had brought happiness in his life since Voldemort had died, 13 years ago. The problem was that, once certain lines had been crossed, they could never be uncrossed, could never be forgiven, no matter how much you might want to. Once trust was gone, especially with an Auror, it was very hard to recapture. Harry would have to take his chances in a far-away land like America, a place that none of his friends would think him likely to go, nor would the Ministry. Weariness finally catching up to him, Harry nodded off.

=ooo=

Harry awoke feeling stiff and even more tired than when he'd gone to sleep. He thought he'd become used to sleeping whenever and wherever the opportunity had arisen — a necessary skill learned by all Aurors — but falling asleep in an airline seat was new to him. He stretched slowly and carefully, letting the kinks in his muscles work themselves out, until a rather unpleasant sound reached his ears — it sounded unnervingly like Ginny's snore, and Harry glanced around to make sure he wasn't back at Grimmauld Place in bed next to her. No, he was still on the airplane heading for America. So what was that sound —?

It was the brown-haired girl in the seat ahead of him. She snored again, loudly, and Harry wondered how he had managed to stay asleep with that snoring going on. He glanced at the other passengers in the nearby rows; most of them were staring towards her with their faces expressing irritation, annoyance and downright anger. Harry gestured to a flight attendant.

She must've guessed what he was going to say, for when she hurried over to him she whispered apologetically, "I'm sorry, sir, but I've tried to wake her several times — she keeps falling back asleep!"

"I see," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. "How long before we land?"

"We're scheduled to arrive in about an hour," the attendant said. "But we're a little ahead of schedule. We should get there in about 45 minutes."

"Thanks," Harry said, sitting back in his seat, and the attendant went back to her business, flinching as the girl snored loudly again.

"Can't they do anything about her?" a woman in the seat next to Harry complained. "She's been snoring like that for the past seven hours!"

"She must be pretty tired," Harry commented. "The attendant said she keeps falling back asleep when they wake her up." Which come to think of it, he could do something about _that_. He reached into his jacket, into the pocket where his mokeskin pouch was, then reached inside it and pulled out his wand. With the young lady's seat almost in his lap, his jacket would hide his wand. He pointed his wand at her through the back of the chair and silently cast _Innervate_.

"Huh? What?" The young lady sat bolt upright, looking around. There were several sighs of relief from the seats around them as the snoring stopped. She looked at the man sitting next to her. "Was I sleeping?"

"Yes you were," the man said curtly.

"Huh," Harry heard her say. "I didn't think I was that tired. I feel pretty good now."

"I'm so happy for you," the man muttered in a sarcastic tone.

Smiling to himself, Harry put his wand back into his pouch and closed the pocket. It sealed itself and vanished; no Muggle scanning device could detect that pocket or its contents now.

Forty minutes later the plane landed and taxied toward the terminal where they would get off the plane. It seemed to take hours but was more like four or five minutes. Even Apparition was preferable to this waiting!

The pilot finally announced they were ready to leave the plane and mass confusion erupted. Everyone stood and began grabbing their things from the overhead compartments, trying to be the first ones off the plane. Harry got his carry-on from under the seat and waited his turn to stand and walk off the plane.

After leaving the plane, he'd been warned there was something called "Customs" that he had to go through, but with no passport or identification he would have to improvise, as he had when getting his ticket back in London.

Once off the plane he was directed to the line forming for non-U.S. citizens to show their passports and declaration forms. Harry had taken a magazine from the holder in the seat ahead of him. During the last hour of waiting for the plane to land he'd chatted with the lady in the seat next to him, who showed him her British passport and the declaration page they'd each been given before the flight departed. Harry used the lady's passport as a model to create a passable version of one for himself, and took his crumpled declaration form out of his pocket. Good thing he hadn't thrown it away!

He finally arrived at the Customs and Border Patrol checkpoint where a middle-aged officer held out his hand. "Passport and declaration form," he said in a flat tone.

"Here you are," Harry said cheerfully, handing over his fake passport and blank form. The officer stared at the form a moment, then held it up for Harry to see.

"There's nothing on this," he said, annoyed. "You have to fill this out before you can get in."

"Sorry," Harry said. "Didn't have a pen." At the same moment his hand was making subtle gestures toward the man.

"_You didn't have a pen_ —?!" the officer suddenly cut himself off, shook his head, then smiled at Harry. "Sorry, sir. You were saying…?"

"I wonder if you might fill that form out for me," Harry suggested.

"No problem, sir — I'll fill it in for you." The officer took a pen off his desk and began writing on the form while Harry waited. He smiled at the people in line behind him. "Very accommodating fellow," he remarked. The people in line were looking at one another in confusion. Was this how things were supposed to work now?

The CBP officer put the form aside. "May I see your passport , sir?"

Harry handed it to him. "You'll find everything in order," he remarked.

The officer gave it a cursory glance. "Everything seems to be in order," he said cheerfully, then stamped it and handed it back to Harry. "Welcome to the United States, sir," he said, smiling vacantly.

"Thanks." Harry took the passport and walked away with his carry-on.

A moment later the CBP officer shook his head as if coming out of a nap. He looked around, frowning, then gestured impatiently at the first person in line. "Next," he said imperiously.

John F. Kennedy Airport was huge, Harry soon found out, and somewhat confusing. In London he'd been fortunate enough to find a few Muggles on holiday who told him how to get around in Heathrow, but none of them could tell him much about JFK. Consequently he wandered through the gates and terminals trying to find a way out, until finally he stopped at a fast food hamburger shop to get something to eat and drink.

He recognized the characteristic golden arches of the shop; you could see them around London as well. Ron had considered himself a connoisseur of hamburgers so he and Harry had visited about every store in London over the years. An island of familiarity in a sea of the unknown.

Harry walked up to the counter and looked around for someone to wait on him. He could hear people moving around in the back but there was no one at the front. Well, it gave him a moment to consider what to eat, though he usually just went with a combo meal. When someone finally came out to take his order Harry ordered his usual meal, then pulled a roll of American money out of his pocket to pay. He peeled off a twenty-dollar bill, got the change and the ticket for his order, then turned to find a seat to wait for his food.

A kid behind him stepping up to the counter accidentally bumped into him. "Excuse me —" the kid muttered, then "_Owww_! What the _hell_?!"

"Are you okay?" Harry asked as the kid pulled his hand back as if he'd been shocked. In fact, he _had_ been shocked; he'd tried to put his hand into the pocket where Harry's money was, and the magical wards he'd put there had prevented access.

"What the hell?" the kid said again, angrily, as if he'd been the wronged party. "Man, what've you got in your pocket?!"

"Not your hand, I can tell you that," Harry said pointedly. "Be happy you can still use it, kid."

"Man, I'm gonna sue you!" the kid snapped, poking his finger into Harry's chest.

Harry briefly considered Obliviating the kid, but he'd have use his wand for that, and it was just simpler to Confund him wandlessly like he'd done the CBP officer. He held up his hand as if waving off the poking finger, then cast the spell. The kid reeled slightly, then blinked and looked around like he'd just woken up. "What'm I doing?" he asked, stupidly.

"Don't worry, you're fine," Harry said solicitously, patting the kid on the shoulder. Behind him a server called out his number and Harry turned and picked up his tray. "Here," he said, handing the young man the dessert from his combo meal. "Have a cookie."

"Thanks," the kid said dazedly, and wandered away.

Harry found a table with no one around and sat down to eat his meal and think for a bit. He was out of Britain and it would be a while before anyone figured out that he'd left the country, since Ginny had forced him to leave Grimmauld Place. Even after people realized he was gone, they would probably assume he'd gone knocking about in Europe. So he had six months, perhaps a year, before Ginny would start feeling the strain of raising three children on her own and would want to get into his vault. To do that she would have to petition the Ministry to check his last will and testament and see if he had died.

Due to the nature of Auror work, every Auror's will had a spell on it that would activate when the Auror died. It wasn't _quite_ Dark magic but it did involve blood and killing an animal that represented the Auror's animal avatar — in Harry's case a stag. When they realized he was alive they would post notices in the Daily Prophet each month for six months, and if he didn't respond to one of them he could be pronounced legally deceased for purposes of obtaining his money and property. The vault his parents had left him, augmented with the gold Sirius had left him, had contained a sizeable amount of treasure.

That treasure was now in his mokeskin pouch, inside his secure jacket pocket. Well, Harry admitted to himself, it was most of the treasure from his vault. To make the gold more transferrable he'd had the goblins at Gringotts convert it from Galleons, Sickles and Knuts to gold bullion, for which they charged him a hefty 15 percent fee. Since each Galleon contained about one-fifth of a gram of gold and he'd had roughly forty-seven thousand Galleons in his vault before he left Britain, the 8,000 grams of gold in his pouch was worth about — Harry had looked up the price of gold just yesterday — about 440,000 U.S. dollars. He'd had the goblins exchange a few Galleons for U.S. currency — about a thousand dollars walking around money — and had left just 20 gold Galleons in his vault, the minimum amount allowed in a vault for the security level of Harry's vault. Once Ginny managed to get his vault opened she wasn't going to find much financial help there.

His children were another matter. James, Albus and Lily hadn't asked for their parents to break up, and Harry felt pretty bad about abandoning them. But the money for their education at Hogwarts was already paid for from his Auror's salary over the past 13 years, and there was a vault for each of them with enough gold in it for their school supplies, held by the Head of the school until each of them came of school age. The magical contracts Harry had placed on the keys would allow only the child who owned that key to use it. Hopefully Ginny wouldn't be so selfish as to force them to remove the gold and give it to her.

"You look pretty serious there, bright eyes," a voice said, and Harry started. He hadn't been paying attention to his detection spells; someone had walked right into them without him noticing. He looked up into the hazel eyes of the brown-haired young lady from the plane. She was holding a food tray and smiling at him. "Are you having some food for thought?"

Harry smiled at her joke. "Yes, I guess so," he said. He gestured to the chair across from him. "Would you like to join me?"

"Sure, why not?" she said, sliding into the chair before he'd finished asking. She unwrapped her Quarter-Pounder and bit into it with obvious hunger. "So what d'you think of the United States so far?" she asked around bites of the burger.

"I think I need a little more information before I give an opinion on that," Harry said, nibbling on a French fry.

The young woman nodded absently, still chewing. "You seem to be doing okay so far, though."

A little alarm went off in Harry's head. "Oh, really?" he said, interested. "Why do you say that?"

The woman nodded over her shoulder. "That kid that tried to pick your pocket — he didn't get too far, did he? Either you've got a taser in your pocket or a heck of joy buzzer in there."

Harry wasn't sure what a joy buzzer was, but it was obvious she'd been following him. But without malicious intent, it seemed, since she hadn't set off any of his Foe detection spells. "Have you been following me, Miss?"

"You can call me Lois." She smiled engagingly at him. "I kind of have a nose for interesting people, you might say. It was really interesting, for example, how that Customs guard just let you waltz right into the country without a valid declaration form or passport."

"How do you know that?" Harry smiled, wondering if he was going to have to get his wand out for an Obliviation spell.

"I talked him into showing me your form. He filled it out with his own information. Unless you're James Spencer from Albany, New York..." she trailed off, perhaps waiting for him to deny everything.

So Harry decided to deny nothing. At least as far as it went to convince her he was harmless, if not completely honest.

"Actually, I'm Harry Evans from South Walpole," Harry said, using the alias and cover location he'd decided on before beginning this adventure. He offered his hand across the table. "Please to meet you, Lois, er…"

"Lois Lane," she finished. "I work for the _Daily Planet_ in Metropolis."

"So you're a reporter?" Harry asked, for clarification.

She winked at him. "Nothing gets by you, bright eyes," she said.

Harry smiled at her. _Shit_, he thought. _The first person I meet in America and she's a _reporter! After dealing with Rita Skeeter and her crusades against him, both while he was in school and afterwards while he was an Auror and Head Auror, Harry was not too keen on hanging out with someone who might turn around and do a tell-all story on him.

As if reinforcing his feelings, Lois asked, "So where are you headed to next, Mr. Evans? Got any plans to travel, see the USA?"

Harry glanced down at his plate. Imagine that, he hadn't even taken a bite of his hamburger yet! "I guess I hadn't thought much about it, Miss Lane. This was a kind of a spur-of-the-moment trip. It is _Miss_ Lane, isn't it?"

Lois smiled at him. "It is, for now." She held up her left hand. "I'm engaged."

Harry held up his left hand, pointing to the pale band of skin at the base of his ring finger. "I used to be married." _I still am, I suppose — but in name only_. "Anyway, what are your suggestions? Where should I go in this big wide country of yours if I want to 'get away from it all,' as the saying goes."

Lois chuckled, a deep, sultry sound that managed to arouse at least a memory in Harry of his younger days, before he and Ginny were married. "You know, Harry, you remind me a little of someone. He even looks a little like you, with those glasses and that black hair."

"Do I dare guess," Harry asked. "Is it your fiancé?"

"Yeah," Lois smiled. "Well, except he's taller and bigger than you. Otherwise you're exactly the same. Anyway, what I was going to say was, he kind of likes small town life. He doesn't seem at home in big cities like Metropolis or New York."

"I agree with that," Harry nodded. "I spent a lot of time when I was a kid between a small town outside London and a boarding school up in the north. There was a small town nearby that we could visit several times during the school year."

"Well, then you'd probably like Smallville. It's where my fiancé Clark grew up. It's really a small town environment. He still owns his parents' farm there, even though we're looking for an apartment in Metropolis. We both work at the _Planet_."

Yeah, that sounds like a great idea: Go live in a small town with a snoopy reporter and her reporter fiancé.

And on the other hand, the more completely he lost himself in this country, the better he'd be able to hide from the prying eyes of both the British Ministry for Magic and the United States Department of Magic. Neither of those two secret governments got along very well, though he'd done a bit of work with the DOM in the past and it hadn't been too painful. Tedious, but not painful. Since he was under the DOM's radar they would probably tell the MOM he wasn't in the country. That could keep him safe for years, until he was ready to go back and see his kids once again. If they would want him back after he ran out on them, that is.

All that took only a bare moment to think over. "So where is this Smallville?" Harry asked.

"In Kansas," Lois replied.

"Alright, then, where is Kansas?" Harry continued, patiently.

"Don't know much U.S. geography, do you?" Lois said. "It's in the center of the county. The nation's breadbasket. The land of Oz."

"I thought that was Australia," Harry commented.

"What?" Lois looked blank. "When did I mention Australia?"

"Oz is a nickname for Australia," Harry said. "Don't you know your world geography?"

"Touché," Lois said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a phone. She glanced at the time. "My flight's going to leave for Metropolis soon," she said, putting it away again. "Think about it. If you come to Metropolis, look me up." She handed him her business card.

Harry looked at the card, then up at Lois. "I'll think about it," he nodded. "Oh, here's my card, by the way." He reached into his pocket and drew out a business card with the name Harry Evans on it. Lois took it and looked at it.

"There's no way to contact you," she said, looking at the card. "No phone, no e-mail address. How am I going to get in touch with you?"

Harry smiled. "Don't worry, I'll find you when you need me."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Alright. Later, bright eyes." And she was off, walking briskly down the terminal toward her next flight.

Harry watched her leave, admiring the view as she walked away. Would he go to this Metropolis, or Smallville? Maybe, maybe not. He'd decide that after a night's sleep, after Lois had a chance to get home and forget about him for a while. That little "business card" he'd given her would make his trip to Kansas a whole lot easier than getting into the United States had been.

=ooo=

Harry had wandered around the airport a while after Lois left, poking around in the various stores and shops that were scattered about the terminals. Except for the non-magical nature of these shops the place was like a super-sized Diagon Alley. It seemed like you could buy more things here than you could ever carry on a plane. Unless, of course, you had a pouch like Harry did.

But Harry was in a looking mood, not a buying one. He felt like he'd circumnavigated the airport by the time he stopped in a restaurant and ordered dinner, a very tasty steak called a ribeye, with a baked potato and assorted vegetables.

After that, he found a hotel and checked in, paying in cash for his room (a fact that seemed to dumbfound the hotel clerk who took his money). The room was spacious compared to what was offered at the Leaky Cauldron, but Harry was paying several time over what old Tom charged. There was a television with what seemed like an infinite number of channels on it, including some that would have made him blush in his school days. After 13 years as an Auror, however, they seemed almost pedestrian.

There was also a very small refrigerator, stocked with little bottles of liquor and treats, and Harry considered having one or two, or ten, but resisted the temptation. He didn't need to be hung over in the morning when he left. The bed was large and after staring at the television for a few hours it felt very comfortable when he climbed into it. He was asleep within minutes.

There was no real hurry about leaving the next day, so Harry awoke at a relatively late hour — nine a.m. by the clock on the bedside table. He showered, shaved, and got dressed, then made sure his things were gathered up and went down to the lobby where he discovered he'd missed the free continental breakfast the hotel offered. No matter, he decided; he could eat when he got to his destination.

He entered an old-style phone booth, but not to make a call. He would need his wand for this, and there was no point putting on a show for the people in the lobby. The business card he had given Lois Lane had a location spell on it; it was a quick way for a wizard to familiarize himself with a place before he magically traveled there, assuming he had some way to get the locator-enchanted object to that location. Miss Lane had kindly provided that transportation, though she didn't know it.

Harry cast the spell linking him to the enchanted card, then closed his eyes as he "saw" his surroundings. It was inside a room with many desks and many people working and moving around them. Well, Miss Lane had said she was reporter — that was apparently the newsroom where she worked. The card's current location was going to make this a little difficult, Harry realized; Portkeying into a room filled with Muggles could be a bit tricky, though he'd had enough experience to know he could arrive there with no problem. Explaining how he had appeared out of thin air would be the problem! There was one other thing he would need if he was going to do this.

Harry reached into his mokeskin pouch, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak. It had come in quite handy over the years, especially for an Auror. He pulled the Cloak over himself, then fished a coin out of his pocket to use as the Portkey. Visualizing the open spot behind Miss Lane's desk, Harry tapped the coin, softly saying, "_Portus_," and smiled as it momentarily glowed blue. He'd set the Portkey to activate in 10 seconds, so he took a deep breath and prepared himself for —

The hook-behind-his-navel sensation pulled him forward into a whirlwind of whooshing sounds and flashing colors, and he spun around and around until he could see images of the newsroom spinning below him. His point of view flew downward and his feet touched the floor of the newsroom, completing the spell.

Harry Potter had come to Metropolis.

Harry looked around from beneath his Cloak, orienting himself. Ahead of him were two desks facing one another; a name plaque on the far desk said Clark Kent. Lois had said her fiancé's name was Clark, and that they both worked at the _Planet_, so that could be his desk. No one was at either desk, so Harry searched for a place where he could remove his Cloak without being seen. He saw an elevator opening and a tall, dark-haired fellow wearing glasses coming out of it, and decided that was as good a place as any. Harry made for the elevator, being sure to give way to people walking around him.

But as he slipped around the tall man, Harry felt — _something_. It was a strange sensation, coming as it seemed from the man he was walking past. Harry stopped and stared at the man, trying to understand the sensation he'd felt.

The man turned and looked at him.

No, he hadn't. He was just looking around, as if he'd sensed something just as Harry had. He moved his head slowly back and forth, as if he were looking for something. Harry was already invisible beneath the Cloak, but he needed to be even more undetectable. He silently cast a Silencing Charm around himself, keeping any sound he might make from being heard outside the spell's area of effect. Which seemed fortunate, because the man then turned his head as if _listening_ for something too. Harry must've cast his spell in time, because the man shrugged minutely and walked away.

Harry turned and made for the elevator. He went inside but didn't push a button for another floor; he merely slipped off the Cloak of Invisibility and put it into his pouch, stuck his wand in his back pocket, hidden by his jacket, then pushed the button to open the elevator doors again.

Harry walked into the room, looking around as if he'd just gotten there, then made his way back to where he'd first appeared. Not surprisingly, he found the tall man sitting at Clark Kent's desk. Lois's desk was still empty.

Had this guy somehow sensed Harry's presence? Even some Muggles were sensitive to the auras of others; this Kent could be one of those people. As Harry approached him, he saw Clark tense slightly, as if aware of him. That was strange; the Silencing Charm was still active, so Clark should have heard nothing: not Harry's footsteps, not his breathing, nothing at all. He seemed to be pretending Harry wasn't there.

Harry canceled the Silencing spell and spoke. "Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find Lois Lane?"

The man turned in his chair to look at Harry. "Lois?" His voice wasn't what Harry expected; soft, a little high-pitched, and his demeanor was rather mild-mannered. "She's probably up talking to our editor-in-chief right now." He stood, towering over Harry, and asked, "How do you know Lois?"

"I'm Harry Evans," Harry said, extending his hand. Clark took it and they shook. _Powerful grip_, Harry thought, though Clark hadn't tried to squeeze his hand very hard; he didn't seem the type for the macho crap that some guys felt they had to exhibit to dominate others. "I met Lois on the plane from London yesterday, and she suggested I come visit Metropolis."

"Yes, she mentioned you," Clark said, smiling. "She said she wasn't sure if you would take her up on the offer."

"I wasn't sure I would, either," Harry said honestly. "The United States is a big place and there are a lot of things to see."

"What made you change your mind?" Clark asked. There was a slight edge to the question that made Harry wonder what the man was thinking. Lois was a beautiful young woman; a lot of guys probably tried to hit on her, engaged or not. Was Clark the jealous boyfriend type? Harry didn't think so, but there was no need to stoke any potential flames.

"Well, I like small-town living," Harry said. "Lois said Smallville is pretty much a typical small town in Kansas, so I thought I'd come have a look."

Clark grinned. "Smallville is pretty normal these days, but it wasn't always like that. We've had tornados in the past, meteor storms, all sorts of weird stuff. I'm glad to say all that's quieted down now. Oh, here —"

He reached back on his desk and picked up a picture frame. Here's a picture of my parents in front of their farm."

Harry took the picture. A blond man and red-headed woman were standing side-by-side, smiling at the camera. There was a simple-looking house in the background, and Harry could see a mail box with the name "Kent" on the side. "Nice," Harry said, handing the picture back. "Your parents still live there?"

"No," Clark said, his voice tinged with sadness. "My dad passed on and my mom is in Washington D.C., in the U.S. Senate."

"Sorry about your dad," Harry said, meaning it. With both his parents gone, he was glad Clark still had one parent living.

"Thanks," Clark said quietly. He put the picture back on his desk, staring at it for several seconds. He looked back and Harry and smiled gamely, trying to break the mood that had descended. "So, you're thinking of visiting Smallville, then."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. It was time for him to leave; there were a few things he had to do before heading to Smallville. "Well, it was good to meet you, Clark. Tell Lois I said hello, and that I'll try and look the two of you up again sometime soon."

"Great," Clark said, shaking his hand again. "Take care, Harry."

Harry nodded and Clark watched as he walked toward the elevator. A very nice fellow, he decided; he could see why Lois liked him.

And he thought he could see why she might have an "intuition" about him, as she'd put it. There was something about Harry Clark couldn't quite pinpoint, but he was different than other people, somehow. Clark had not felt himself weaken around Harry, so he probably hadn't been exposed to Kryptonite like so many people in Smallville had over the years. So that left — what? Clark didn't know, but Harry was probably someone he should keep an eye on, at least while he was in Metropolis, and especially if he went to Smallville. He turned back to his computer and went to work on the piece he and Lois were writing for Perry on the newest phenomenon to hit the world — Superman.

=ooo=

Harry walked out of the _Daily Planet_ building with a plan half-formed in his mind: before he went to look around Smallville he had to do something with the 8000 grams of gold in his mokeskin pouch. It wasn't going to do him any good if it stayed in there.

The obvious thing to do was to go to a bank. Gringotts had handled his vault and gold for his entire life — it seemed reasonable that the banks here in Metropolis would do the same.

However, in the first bank he found, Metropolis National Bank, he was quickly disabused of this quaint notion by the bank manager. "I'm afraid, Mr. Evans, that we do not handle transactions with gold bullion," that gentleman told him, apologetically. "You can have a dealer buy the gold from you at the current rate of exchange, and we will be happy to set up accounts for you. In fact, there is a gold dealer in this very building. You will find his store around the east corner — LL's Gold and Silver Coins and Exchange."

Harry thanked the man and left the bank, walking around until he found the shop the man had mentioned. A thin, middle aged man at the counter had nodded a silent greeting and asked what he needed.

"I have some gold bullion to sell," Harry said.

"How much?" the man asked.

"About 8000 grams," Harry said.

The man gave him a dubious smile. "That's about —" the man thought for a moment. "— almost 17 pounds of gold, friend. I don't see you carrying anything that could hold that much gold."

"It's in my pocket," Harry said, smiling.

The man didn't seem convinced. "If you say so," he said, shrugging. "Show me."

Harry reached into his jacket, going into his mokeskin pouch and grabbing a handful of the gold bars. The goblins at Gringotts had recast his Galleons into100-gram bars, then converted his Sickles and Knuts to Galleons and cast them into 5-gram bars. It took him a while, but soon there were 72 100-gram bars and 156 5-gram bars sitting on the counter. The dealer's eyes were bulging as he watched all that gold come from a jacket pocket.

"That must be a pretty damn deep pocket," he muttered. "Let me go get my scale." The man walked into an adjoining office, leaving Harry alone to look around the store. There were rows of countertops with what must have been hundreds of gold and silver coins, bars, and ingots. The shop itself was rather long and not very wide, lending itself to the overall display style. At the moment he was the only customer in the store, which didn't seem that unusual if most people were working during the day.

There was a tickle from his Foe detection spell and Harry invoked the Supersensory spell that he and Ron had developed a few years ago with Hermione's help. The spell was an imitation of the way Mad-Eye Moony's Eye had functioned; it let you "see" in any direction without turning your head, and if you concentrated it would even work through walls and other solid objects, though you could only see as far as your eyes normally allowed. Very handy for an Auror — Harry understood why Moody had used his Eye as much as he did, quite apart from having lost his own years before he acquired it.

There was a fellow watching him from a doorway at the far end of the shop, just barely visible behind the frame. Harry pretended to study the coins in the counter in front of him as he studied the man. Not very old, rather weedy looking. Not the type someone like the gold and silver dealer would like walking around in his shop. But since he was _behind_ the counters, he must be there for a reason.

The dealer returned with a scale and began weighing the gold bars. The total weight came out to 7980 grams. "I'd like to test one for purity," the dealer said, and Harry nodded agreement. The goblins would have been quite scrupulous in making sure the gold matched the .9999 fine rating stamped on each bar. The dealer brought out a bar magnet and held it over several of the bars. Nothing happened. The dealer nodded. "Non-magnetic. Good," he said. "Now for the acid test." He brought out a small vial of liquid. "If this metal reacts with the nitric acid," he told Harry. "It's not real gold." There was a small dropper in the bottle which the dealer used to place a bit of liquid on one of the bars. Again, there was no reaction. "It looks real," the dealer said, convinced.

Harry nodded. "What's your rate for gold today?"

The man pulled a small notepad from one of his pockets. "It's $59.78 per gram," he said. "For 7980 grams that's —" he ran a quick calculation on a pocket calculator — "that's about $477,044.40."

"Sounds good to me," Harry nodded, smiling.

"How about we round it to, say, $475,000?" the dealer suggested.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's over 2000 dollars off the current rate."

"Overhead," the dealer shrugged.

"Sorry we can't do business," Harry said, and began putting the gold bars back into his pocket.

"Whoa, wait a minute," the dealer quickly stopped him. "How about $476,000?"

"How about $477,000," Harry suggested. "You can keep the 44 dollars."

The dealer looked conflicted. Harry could tell it was all an act — the guy was playing the victim in order to cut a better deal, but it wasn't working on Harry. "Alright, you got me over a barrel. Four hundred and seventy-seven large it is."

They shook hands. There was a ghost of a smirk on the guy's lips, like he was enjoying some private joke. "You got anything to put the money in, buddy?"

"I guess not," Harry said, deciding he couldn't plausibly stuff all the money he'd be getting into his pocket. Screwing around with this guy by pulling eight kilos of gold bullion from his pocket was one thing; he probably didn't want to do that in a Muggle bank, however.

"Don't worry, I got something you can use." The buy reached under the counter and brought out a metal briefcase. "Nice, ain't it?" he said, as Harry looked it over. "A hundred bucks."

Harry shrugged. What was a hundred dollars when he was getting 477 thousand? "I'll take it." He would only need it for a little while, until he walked back to the bank and set up an account.

But as the dealer counted out the money for him, Harry could sense other plans were being set in motion. His Foe-detection spell had been buzzing softly since the dealer had offered him the money. He could sense untrustworthiness coming from the dealer, but there was a hot spot near the back of the store as well, where had seen the other man watching him. The two men had something unsavory planned for him. Too bad they didn't realize they were dealing with a wizard.

The deal was done — Harry had his briefcase full of money and the dealer had his 7980 grams of gold. "Thanks for your business," the guy said, shaking Harry's hand. "You better get that to a bank fast," he added.

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "I'm taking it to the bank in this building."

"Really?" The dealer leaned forward conspiratorially. "I can let you go out the back way. You can walk right into the bank from there."

"That sounds great," Harry agreed, knowing the guy was lying to him. He hardly even needed his Foe-detection spells to tell — the guy fairly reeked of dishonesty. "I really appreciate it."

"Right this way." The dealer led him to the back of the store, past some counters, and to a door that opened to a long corridor. "Just go down the hallway until you see the exit. Go out there, take a right, and you'll see the entrance to the bank."

"Thanks again," Harry said. He even waved to the guy as he left. Walking down the corridor, he considered what he should do with the dealer after he'd dealt with this situation. The Supersensory charm let him "see" through the walls ahead of him, showing him the weedy-looking guy he'd seen watching him from the back of the store.

The door at the far end of the corridor had a red EXIT sign over it. Harry pushed the bar across the door. It opened, not into the street like the dealer had implied, but into an alleyway. When Harry turned to the right, he saw it was a dead end.

"I'll take that case," a voice behind him growled, and Harry heard the sound of a knife sliding out of its sheath. When he turned around, the weedy-looking guy had the knife pointed at him and his free hand extended. "Hand it over," he said, gesturing impatiently.

"If you walk away right now," Harry said calmly. "We'll pretend this never happened."

The guy looked at him like he was crazy.

"Are you stupid?" he snorted. "I've got a knife here!"

"I see it," Harry said. "It's not very impressive."

"You might think different once I stick it in you a few times," the guy snarled. "Now hand over that case, asshole, before I cut you."

"Right," Harry said. At this range, against a Muggle, he didn't even need to use his wand. A quick gesture of his free hand and the guy's knife suddenly flew into the air. Harry let it fall to the ground behind him.

"What the hell?" the guy stared at his hand in shock. "What did you _do_?!"

"Nothing, compared to what I'm _going_ to do if you don't piss off right now," Harry said. With another gesture he hit the guy with an Impediment Jinx, knocking him back a foot or so. "Go on, take off," Harry said again.

Without a weapon, not understanding how Harry could be pushing him from five feet away, the guy did the only thing he could think of doing. He ran. In a few seconds he was out the mouth of the alley and out of sight. Harry stared after him for a few seconds, then Disapparated with a soft _pop_.

He appeared a moment later behind the door that led back into the gold and silver store, then walked through it and back up to the counter. He rapped softly on it for service. "Just a second," the dealer's voice said from the office. "What can I do for —" the man stopped as he saw Harry. "Oh. Did you forget something?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I forgot to tell you it was a stupid idea to try and rob me."

"What — what the hell are you saying?" the dealer tried to bluster. "I never did anything of the sort —"

"Shut it," Harry said. The man stopped talking, still looking angry. "Some moron just tried to knife me in the alley behind this place, where _you_ sent me. You can deny any involvement all you want, but I know you were in on it."

"You can't prove anything," the dealer sneered.

"Really?" Harry sneered back. "I _will_, in fact, in three, two, one…"

At that moment the weedy guy burst through the front doors. "Boss! Boss! That guy got awaaaaay…" He stopped when he saw Harry and the briefcase. "Uh. Oh. Oh shit!" He turned and ran out the door again.

"See?" Harry said.

"Doesn't prove anything," the dealer said, but he was sweating now, and not just from the August heat. "Better just forget about it, man. Forget it happened."

"That's a good idea," Harry said. He pointed his wand at the dealer. "_Obliviate_!"

The dealer took a step back, like he'd been slapped. His face went slack for a moment, as if he was about to fall asleep, but then a dreamy, unconcerned smile spread across his face. "Thank you for doing business at Gold and Silver Exchange," he said pleasantly. "Please come again."

"Thank you," Harry said, putting his wand away and walking out the front door. Too bad a Memory Charm couldn't make the man a better person, but at least he wouldn't remember exactly how he obtained Harry's gold, only that he'd bought it, and would remember nothing about sending someone to try and steal the money back. The weedy guy, on the other hand, _would_ remember, and might think twice before trying to hurt someone again. At least Harry hoped so; he wanted to see that guy again someday.

Back at the bank, the manager was _much_ more agreeable about setting up accounts for Harry now that he had Muggle cash in hand. Harry detected no real untrustworthiness in the man, indicating he hadn't been in on the dealer's plan. They set up a checking account, including a debit card Harry could use instead of writing checks. Harry had them put several thousand dollars in that account, so he wouldn't have to bother coming in to put more money into the account very soon. At Gringotts, if you needed to move money from one vault to another, the goblins would do it for you, but at a cost of about one-tenth of a percent of the amount moved. Here money could be moved at no charge, which Harry thought was pretty accommodating of the bank.

The manager also tried to talk him into buying something called certificates of deposit; he talked about them being "FDIC insured," or something like that, but when he mentioned the money had to be left in the CD for at least three months, Harry balked, opting to put the balance in a savings account instead. The rate there, the manager had said, was only 0.9 percent, but that was more than Gringotts had ever offered! In the wizarding world, if you wanted your savings to make money, you had to loan it out to someone and hope they wouldn't default on the loan. While wealthy and influential men like Lucius and Draco Malfoy could make sure their loans were repaid, one way or another, an Auror like Harry had little legal recourse if someone refused to repay their debt short of having them thrown into Azkaban, so Harry preferred not to loan out his money at all.

But with over $400,000 in savings, even 0.9 percent would accumulate a healthy amount of interest. He should be set for some time now without having to worry about money. Harry thanked the manager and his assistants and left the bank.

Outside, he looked at the streets and sidewalks, filled with cars and people, and wondered if he'd made the right choice in leaving Britain. London could be just as busy as Metropolis, just as fast-paced, but for the most part Harry didn't have to deal with the hustle and bustle of city life when he wasn't working. Now that he was unemployed, everything seemed to be going at breakneck speed around him.

Maybe Smallville _would_ be more his speed now that he was "retired" from the wizarding world. If Lois Lane and her fiancé were going to live in Metropolis like she'd told him, he probably wouldn't see much of them. He'd had enough nosy reporters in his life in the past 20 years! Well, there was no use standing around thinking about it when he could go see for himself. Fortunately, the picture on Clark Kent's desk had given him a destination he could visualize and aim for. Harry quietly cast an Ignore-Me Charm on himself, so no one would notice him vanish into thin air, then Disapparated out of Metropolis.

=ooo=ooo=

**A/N: This story begins with a nod to _Apocalypse Thou_ and his story "Harry Potter and the Ascension of Ra," a Harry Potter/Smallville crossover. I've done "Harry Potter Returns," a Harry/Superman Returns crossover and had a good run with that, and I've wanted to have Harry meet Clark and his Smallville buddies. Alas, since Smallville ended in 2011 I've been working on other HP projects. Now I'm going to present my own version of when Harry met Clark. This story begins at the end of the Smallville series, so it starts about the middle of August 2011. There is a Smallville Season 11 comic series but the events in this story won't coincide with that story. I still have at least one or two more chapters to do on my Harry Potter/Rifleman crossover, "The Rifle and the Wand," and there may be another story I'll begin as well, not sure which one to go with first. If I published all the stories I have at least one chapter written on, I'd have five or six running concurrently. That's a bit much to tackle!**

**I hope you enjoy this story as it progresses, and please review whenever you can!**


	2. Home Sweet Home

**Chapter Two  
****Small Town, Big Problems****  
**

_Updated_ 9/20/2013

=ooo=

Harry appeared with a soft _pop_ on a country road. Ahead of him was the farm house he'd seen in the photograph Clark had shown to him. It was definitely the Kent Farm — the mailbox he'd seen in the photograph was nearby, and there was an arch over the entrance with a big wooden sign that said, "Kent Farm." He looked left and right; the road fell away in a straight line as far as he could see, in both directions. The fields on both sides of the road were filled with grain plants he didn't recognize. Behind him was another farm away, set away from the road too far for him to make out any details.

"Well, I'm here," Harry said to himself. "What next?"

It was tempting to walk up to the house and see if anyone was home, but he didn't want to startle whoever might be there—or give Lois or Clark reason to think he was snooping around their home.

If there _was_ anyone around, that is. Harry cast _Homenum Revelio_ at the house. There was no response. Nobody was at the Kent Farm or in the nearby barn; that didn't mean the place was deserted, however. He looked around again, trying to decide whether to check out the farm some more or go to Smallville, which he could see in the distance a few miles away.

At that moment an old pickup truck turned onto the road from the opposite direction. Harry watched as it approached; he could see the driver staring at him through the windscreen. The truck slowed down and stopped as it came alongside him. The driver, an older gentleman, leaned across the seat (the steering wheel was on the left side of the car, not the right) and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Hi," Harry said. "I just got into town a little while ago and I was looking around."

The man gave him a curious look. "Where's your car?"

"I don't have one," Harry said, walking up to the pickup. "I walked here."

"From Smallville?" the man looked surprised. "That's a couple miles at least. By the way, I'm Ben Hubbard," he offered his hand through the open window and Harry shook it. "I got a farm on the next section over. I help with this one when the owners are out of town."

An image of Clark formed in the old man's mind as Harry listened. He hadn't actually intended to use Legilimency on the man but sometimes it automatically happened, especially with Muggles.

"I'm Harry Evans," Harry said, introducing himself. "I met Clark Kent earlier today," he added. "He showed me a picture of this farm. That's why I was out here looking at it."

"You know Clark?" Hubbard said, smiling. Harry nodded; it was a slight bending of the truth, since he'd just met the man today, but you learned to take your opportunities when they knocked. "I tell you, I never seen anybody hustle like that boy does! He's got himself a full-time job in Metropolis but he still manages to get out here most nights and weekends and keep the farm up. He an his fiancée both. You met her yet?"

"She and I flew back from London together," Harry said. "She was over there doing a story on the 'Contact Event.'" He still didn't really know what that was, but just mentioning it made him sound like he did. More stretching of the truth, but it wasn't going to hurt anything.

"Yeah, I heard about all that stuff," Hubbard said, rubbing at his temple like thinking too much bothered him. "Not sure what it all means. Anyway, do you want a ride back to Smallville? We can have a cup of coffee 'fore I pick up some things at the store."

"That would be nice, thank you," Harry said, and climbed into the truck with the old farmer; they drove away from the Kent Farm toward town.

Harry looked around at Smallville as Hubbard drove into town. The main street was — interesting was the nicest word he could think of — a collection of old and new style buildings. Cars were parked along the way and people were walking back and forth across the main street like it was a big sidewalk. Well, small-town living, Harry thought, smiling to himself. Except for the cars it wasn't much different than what you might see in Hogsmeade.

"Here we go," Hubbard said, pulling into a parking spot in front of a building with an art deco style motif and the name "TALON" on a tall vertical sign. He and Harry climbed out of the pickup. "The store's across the street," he said, pointing to a building with the name "Fordman's Department Store" across the front of it. He clapped his hands together. "Now how 'bout that coffee, son?"

"After you," Harry said, opening the door for the older man. Inside was a fairly new-looking coffee shop. Several groups of men in farming clothes were seated around a few of the tables; many of them waved at Hubbard, who raised his hand in greeting, then pointed to an empty table where he and Harry could sit down.

Their server appeared, a young red-haired girl Harry estimated was still in school. "Hi, Mr. Hubbard," she said to the farmer. "You want your usual?"

"I sure do, Ally," Hubbard nodded, smiling.

"Anything to eat with that today?" Ally asked. From the way she spoke Harry guessed there was some sort of private joke between them.

"Already had breakfast," Hubbard said, patting his stomach. He looked over at Harry. "You want sumthin' to eat, young feller?"

Well, it had been a little while since he'd eaten; he'd missed breakfast that morning. "What do you have?" he asked the girl, giving her a friendly smile.

"Oh, let's see," Ally said, trying to remember. "We have cinnamon rolls, Danish, bear claws, long Johns, some bran muffins and of course, cornbread."

"Why did you say, 'of course' cornbread?" Harry asked, curiously. He wasn't even altogether sure what cornbread even was, unless it was just bread made from corn.

"Well, uh…" Ally finally shrugged. "You know, I don't really know. That's just what all the other waitresses say when they tell customers what we got."

"Well, maybe I should try some and find out," Harry said. "And a cup of coffee." Ally smiled as she scribbled on her order pad. "Coffee and a piece of cornbread, coming right up!" She smiled happily at Harry then turned and headed for the kitchen to place their orders.

"She always asks me if I want my regular order ev'ry time I come in," Hubbard told Harry quietly. "It's gotten to be kind of a joke between us."

"I gathered that," Harry nodded. "So how long have you been farming?"

Hubbard scratched his temple again. It seemed to help him think. "Oh, close to 50 years now," he said. "Seen a lot of things in that time, I tell you. The Luthors come in here back in 1989 and bought out the creamed corn factory. Turned it into a fertilizer plant! Can you imagine that?"

Harry shook his head.

"Nobody could!" Hubbard went on. "We used to be the creamed corn capital of the world! Now what are we? The 'Meteor Capital of the World'! Had a bunch of meteors hit the town back then. Who wants to be known as something like that? People were _killed_ back when them meteors hit! An' after that, I tell you, it's been downright _scary_ to live here pretty much since then!"

"Why's that?" Harry asked, interested.

"We had all kinds of weird shit go on here since then," Hubbard said. "Pardon my French," he added.

"Weird how?" Harry pressed.

"Oh just weird things happenin'," Hubbard went on. "People getting sick and dying mysteriously, or just disappearing altogether. Strange things goin' on at night, kids running around town at all hours. Seems like ev'ry other day the police chief or sheriff's patrol was on the TV talking about this or that happening. Hell, late last year _this_ place got blowed up one night. Nobody knows how or why, or they just ain't tellin' us. We all had to go over to the Beanery to get coffee from then on. But then one day someone started rebuilding this place."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Nobody knows!" Hubbard threw up his hands. "It opened up just a few weeks ago, like it had never been closed. Came into town one day and bang, there it was, open for business. Better prices than the Beanery, too."

"Interesting," Harry murmured. Clark had implied Smallville's problems were behind them, but if this building had been destroyed last year and reopened a few weeks ago those problems weren't that far in the past.

Hubbard suddenly stood up. "Hey, I got to ask Bill Huell about some feed grain he's selling," he said, pointing to a table where two men were seated. "I'll be right back."

Harry nodded and Hubbard walked away. A few seconds later Ally appeared again carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and a plate with a slice of cornbread on it. "Hi, sorry about the wait," she said, putting the plate and one of the cups in front of Harry. "This is right out of the oven." She also set down another small plate, this one with butter on it. She looked around, seeing Ben sitting with the other men and said, "I'll go bring Mr. Hubbard his coffee. I'll be right back."

Harry nodded and then looked at his cornbread. It looked like yellow cake, but Harry had no idea what the butter was for. He finally picked a piece of cornbread off an edge of the slice and tasted it. Nice and warm, but a bit dry.

"How's it taste?" Ally was back already.

"It's fine," Harry said, being generous in his opinion. Cornbread was probably an acquired taste. Like haggis, for instance.

"Have you ever had cornbread before?" she asked, smiling.

"No," Harry admitted.

"It's better with butter on it," she suggested. "It's even better with cold milk, but we're a coffee shop, so…" she shrugged.

Harry picked up a knife and took a slice of butter from the butter tray. He started to spread the butter on the top of the cornbread. Ally made a face. "Is that wrong?" Harry asked, seeing her expression.

"Well, you usually cut it in half and put the butter in the middle," she explained.

"I see," Harry nodded. "Well, you can tell I've never done this before."

"Oh, I guess that's right!" Ally exclaimed. "Sorry, I should've remembered that! I'll go get you another piece!"

"No, it's okay," Harry stopped her. "Look." He split the piece in two through the middle, then took the top piece off and spread butter on the bottom slice. He then flipped the top slice upside down on top of it. "Voilà!"

Ally giggled. "That's funny!" she said. She gave him a long look. "So are you going to go to Smallville High this fall?" she asked, a somewhat expectant quality in her voice.

Harry smiled. Did he really look that young? "Uh, no," he said. "I've been out of school a few years."

"Oh." She sounded vaguely disappointed. "Are you in college, then?"

"No," Harry smiled. "I didn't go to college."

"Oh, well —" Ally sounded a little flustered. "I guess you — I mean _do you_, do you have a job around — I mean, I haven't seen you around here before."

"I just got here," Harry said. "I came over from Britain yesterday."

"Oh!" Ally nodded. "I wondered what your accent was. I mean, you sounded English, you know."

"I know," Harry agreed. "I have all my life."

Ally giggled. "That's funny!" she said again.

"I'm here all week," Harry added, grinning. It was kind of fun, being able to talk and joke with someone without worrying about his activities being reported back to his wife. And _especially_ if he'd been talking to a woman, or in this case a girl. And a _red-headed_ girl at that!

"Well, good," Ally said. "Oh, I'll be right back!" she ran off to get some refills for other customers, and Harry watched her as he absently took bites from his cornbread. Not the best choice for a late breakfast / early lunch, but he could find a restaurant later and have a normal meal.

And he needed someplace to stay, for that matter. He hadn't seen any hotels or other lodging on the drive in. Admittedly he hadn't seen much of the town itself; there had to be places for visitors to stay when they came here. Maybe Hubbard would know a place… Harry's attention wandered to the picture window of the shop, and he watched people walking past the front.

From where he was sitting now this seemed a lot like a normal small town, horror stories from Mr. Hubbard notwithstanding. The old farmer didn't like the Luthors, whoever they were, but that was generally how older people felt about changes — they didn't like them. When he'd defeated Voldemort back in 1998, it took some time before things were back to normal and running more or less smoothly once again. Kingsley Shacklebolt had become Minister for Magic; he had made Harry and Ron Aurors, in recognition for their contributions and efforts against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. That hadn't been easy, because neither of them had the training or the formal education the other Aurors had, and it had taken a lot of effort on their part before the current Aurors recognized them as fellow wizarding law enforcers. But nine years later Harry had risen in prominence enough to become Head Auror, and he had taken that position and its duties seriously. He'd been one of the youngest Head Aurors ever, and Shacklebolt let him make a lot of changes in the department during his tenure.

But his relationship with Ginny suffered for it. There was no way for Harry to deny that, he'd put a lot more effort into his job than he had with his wife and three children. Ginny had left a successful professional career with the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team to marry him, and her fame in that sport had gotten her a job as Senior Quidditch Correspondent at the _Daily Prophet_. That had even generated some controversy, since the all-female Harpies didn't like losing one of their star players to a bloke, even if he was the Boy-Who-Lived or Chosen One or whatever.

Everything had been blissful at first. James had been born in 2004. Albus arrived two years later, and Lily two years after that. During that time Harry had become Head Auror, and everything was moving along swimmingly in wizarding Britain.

But as Harry began spending more and more time with his Auror duties Ginny began accusing Harry of going out on her with other women, something that just wasn't true, though he'd been unable to convince her otherwise. Ron had tried to talk to her, and she cursed him for his effort. George thought she'd been influenced by her former teammates on the Harpies, an all-female, aggressive team, trying to get her to return to the team as its Seeker.

Whatever had happened, it became more and more difficult to live with Ginny. Harry tried to deal with the stress for the sake of his children, if not his marriage, but Ginny had become convinced he was unfaithful to her, that women wanted to seduce the "Chosen One." She wasn't wrong about the latter part — a lot of women did try to be with him, the man who defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. But he had never cheated on her. Then one day she finally went too far.

She sent a formal declaration accusing him of "moral turpitude" to the Wizengamot, which took it seriously, thanks to the influence of a certain pure-blood family that had always held a grudge against him, even though he had saved their son's life.

The Malfoys.

The vote in the Wizengamot had swung against Harry, and he had been summarily sacked. The whole incident had taken only hours from start to finish. The Wizengamot also ordered him out of his own house at number 12, Grimmauld Place, the home of his late godfather Sirius Black, who had left it to him in his will. That left him sacked, publicly disgraced, and soon to be ordered to turn over half of his assets to Ginny in the ensuing divorce proceedings, Harry had opted instead to get out while he could. Fortunately Ron, who couldn't understand why his sister started acting the way she did, had tipped Harry off to her plans to divorce him and force him to give her half the gold in his vault as her dowry, though she hadn't brought a Knut of her own into the marriage, even though she must have made thousands of Galleons during her time with the Harpies.

And here he was, worrying about it again when there was nothing more he could do about it. He was out of Britain forever, out of Ginny's life, and it would be a bloody cold day before he went back there for her sake.

"Hi again."

Harry looked up. Ally was looking at him, her face somewhere between a smile and a look of concern. "You okay?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, smiling at her. "Just thinking."

"Oh." She stood there for a moment, looking like she wanted to say something. "Do you…mind if I sit down?" she asked. "I've got a few spare minutes now that everyone else is gone."

Harry looked around the shop. Everyone was indeed gone, even Mr. Hubbard. "Sure," Harry said, gesturing toward the chair next to him.

"Thanks," she said. Harry saw that she had her own cup of coffee in her hand. But before she sat down she asked, "Can — can I get you a refill first?"

Harry's hand was resting on his coffee cup. It had gone cold while he sat thinking, but he shook his head as he concentrated on casting the Refilling Charm. The level of coffee in the cup rose to just below the rim, and Harry followed up with a Warming Charm, heating the coffee until it was almost steaming again. "No," he shook his head, taking his hand off the cup to show her. "I've still got a lot."

"Oh, you do!" Ally said, seeing the steaming liquid. "Better not let it get cold."

"Oh, I won't," Harry promised.

Ally sat down and took a sip from her own cup. "So…" she ventured, hesitantly. "If you're not going to school what are you doing here in Smallville? If you don't mind me asking," she added quickly.

"I guess you could say I'm on an extended 'sabbatical,'" Harry said. "I had to take some time off from work —" _Yeah, a permanent vacation_ "—and decided to do a bit of traveling before I go back." _If I ever do_.

"And where's home?" Ally asked. "I mean, I know you're from England, but I mean what city?"

"I'm from South Walpole," Harry said, repeating what he'd told Lois. "It's in Norfolk county." There was a Walpole in Norfolk county, northeast of London, but "South Walpole" didn't really exist as such.

"That's pretty neat," Ally said, smiling at him. "I've never met someone from another country before."

"Not so different, am I?" Harry asked her. "I still have to eat, sleep, and all that stuff, you know."

Ally looked at him, perplexed for a moment. "I guess, if you put it like that," she finally said, softly, "you really aren't that different."

"And speaking of that," Harry said, remembering, "I've been thinking about staying around here for a while. Do you know where I can get a room?" Ally's eyebrows went up, and she stared at him until he added, "You know, like a hotel room, until I can find a place to stay."

"Oh," she said. "Well, there's an apartment above the shop. The manager told me it was there when they opened the place years ago, and it was rebuilt when they renovated the place. It's not being rented right now. If you want to talk to the manager about it I can get her."

Harry looked up at the ceiling, silently invoking the Supersensory charm. His vision extended up into the apartment. It wasn't very big; there was only a living room area, a small kitchen, and a bedroom, but it looked nice and it was already furnished. The door to the apartment led to a short hallway and a staircase down into the coffee shop itself, near a side exit. An interesting arrangement, though Harry had seen houses that had separate apartments on the upper floor, with access through the main door rather than a separate entrance.

Ally was following Harry's gaze, trying to figure out what he was looking at. "So…do you want to talk to the manager?"

After a moment Harry nodded. "Sure," he said, smiling at her.

"I'm sure once you see it you'll like it," Ally beamed.

"I agree," Harry nodded, smiling as well.

The manager wasn't much older than Ally, a dark-haired young woman named Sarah who showed Harry the apartment and announced the rent was $500, payable on the first of each month, plus a one-month deposit. Harry agreed to the price and they signed a rental agreement allowing him to move in that night.

Sarah was a no-nonsense person, Harry discovered; she was quick to point out to him that access through the coffee shop did not give him carte blanche to help himself to any food or beverages in the place, and Harry very solemnly agreed with her, hiding his smile at the private joke that she reminded him a lot of Professor McGonagall, who had retired as Headmistress of Hogwarts at the end of the last school term. He hadn't heard before he left Britain who her replacement would be. Harry grinned to himself; if Sarah had been a witch he would have suggested she apply for the position herself!

She gave him the key to the side entrance, reminding him there was a $50 charge if it was lost. Harry nodded and dropped it into his special jacket pocket. There was little chance it would get lost in there!

Before he left Harry went to the counter to get a drink to take with him. Ally ran behind the counter to wait on him. "Did you get it?" she asked before he could even order.

"I did," Harry nodded. "It's a nice apartment. I'm surprised it wasn't already taken."

"I think they hoped whoever was running the place would stay there so they could open up early, but nobody wanted to pay that much in rent." Ally made a wry face. "Well, some people are a little afraid of this place, because of the explosion last year."

"Oh, _now_ you tell me that!" Harry laughed.

"Oh there's nothing wrong with the place!" Ally quickly explained. "I mean, no gas leaks or anything like that. They think someone tried to blow up the place because of who was staying there."

"You mean someone _bombed_ the place?" Harry asked, surprised. Did things like that happen in small towns like this?

"Well, I dunno, really…" Ally said, trying not to say or do anything to discourage Harry further. "I mean, don't listen to me, I just work here, you know what I mean?"

"I understand," Harry said. "I'm Harry Evans, by the way." He extended his hand.

"I'm Ally Benson," Ally replied, shaking hands with him. "I guess I'll be seeing you again soon, since you're sort of living here now."

Harry ordered a pink lemonade, a drink he'd never heard of before, and left the coffee shop. The old farmer's truck was gone, but he was probably off doing farming things anyway; Harry's day, on the other hand, was wide open.

People smiled and nodded to him as they passed him on the street; Harry could feel their eyes on him, a stranger, after he'd gone by. That was pretty normal curiosity for a small town. Friendly but cautious.

The middle of town wasn't very large, three or four streets with most of the city's businesses lined up along them. He'd already seen the department store, across from the Talon, and after a short walk he found Smallville Savings and Loan, the local bank. There was an ATM out front, and Harry checked to see if he could use his debit card to get cash. It would, so cash would not be a problem for a while. Now, if he could just find a restaurant or café, he could do something about his nearly empty stomach.

=ooo=

"I saw a couple of interesting apartments in the paper today," Lois mentioned as they passed the road sign welcoming them to Lowell county. "They were only a few blocks from the _Planet_ building."

"That sounds good," Clark said from the passenger seat. Lois glanced at him; he seemed a little distracted, like he wasn't paying attention.

"I thought maybe we could check them out this weekend, maybe set up an appointment with the building manager to do a walk-through," Lois went on.

"That would be nice," Clark muttered, looking out the side window.

"And Perry is sending me on a six-month assignment to Afghanistan," Lois added.

"That's fine — wait, what?" Clark looked at her. "Are you joking?"

"Yes, of course I'm joking!" Lois said, giving him a look of amusement and irritation. "Your mind seems a million miles away right now."

"Sorry," Clark said. "I was just…listening."

Lois nodded. She knew what he meant — there were a lot of things Clark could hear if he let himself listen. "Anything you need to take care of?"

"Nothing yet. Well, one of Mr. Hubbard's cows wandered into a mudpit and can't get out by itself."

"You don't think that's a job for Superman?" Lois asked teasingly.

"We can stop by and help if you'd like to," Clark said seriously.

"No," Lois shook her head emphatically. "I'm not getting _this_ outfit muddy! Where shall we eat tonight, by the way?" They usually ate in Metropolis lately but neither of them had felt hungry enough to eat before coming home.

"How about Gallo's?" Gallo's was a restaurant serving Italian cuisine, with soft lighting, a cozy atmosphere and big helpings.

Lois made a face. "I was thinking more like the Burger Emporium," she said.

The Burger Emporium was a just-above-fast-food burger joint serving "gourmet" burgers and sandwiches.

"Really?" Clark said. "I thought you wanted to get away from fast food."

"Hey!" Lois said indignantly. "Burger Emporium is not fast food! It's _gourmet_ hamburgers!"

"Fine, if you want to eat there," Clark said. He smiled. "Maybe I'll have their 'Super-burger.'"

"Ha-ha," Lois said. "Burger Emporium it is."

The Burger Emporium was one street east of Main Street, the "main drag" of Smallville, where the old Talon had been. Neither Lois nor Clark had gone past the place since Rick Flag tried to kill Lois's father last year; until then, Lois had been living in that apartment.

The Emporium was a hang-out for tweens and teens; it was busy tonight, with many of the town's teenage population preparing to return to school in a week or so. Lois pointed out that their usual booth was free, and they slid in and grabbed menus.

"Double cheeseburger and curly-Q fries," Lois said, after their server had greeted them. "And a large coke."

"Two Superburgers with everything on them," Clark ordered. "And a large fries. A large coke for me, too."

"You must be pretty hungry," the server remarked. "Those are big burgers!"

"I have a super appetite tonight," Clark grinned. Lois rolled her eyes.

"I'll have your drinks right out and get this order put in," the server said, then hurried off to the kitchen.

"Do you have a lot of work to do around the farm tonight?" Lois asked after the server was gone.

"Not much," Clark said. "Ben sent me a text that my feed grain was delivered today. It's stacked up just inside the barn, I'm going to move it to the storage bins."

"Good," Lois said. "Do you want to watch a movie tonight? We can do popcorn, sodas, the whole deal." She pulled a DVD out of her purse. "See? I've got 'Eclipse!'"

"Oooh, sparkly vampires," Clark said mockingly.

"Hey, they could kick your butt, I bet," Lois teased him.

"No, they couldn't," Clark said, shaking his head.

"Bet me," Lois challenged, holding out her hand.

"Bet you?" Clark laughed. "What, are you going to call Edward Cullen and him come beat me up?"

The server hurried by them at that moment, a basket with a burger and fries in one hand, a drink in the other. "Here you go," she said, delivering it to the table behind them. "Sorry for the wait."

"No problem," a familiar voice said. "Thanks."

Lois looked at Clark, then turned around to look at the person in the booth behind them. It was Harry. "Hey, you," she said.

Harry, who'd picked up his burger and was holding it right in front of his mouth, half-turned and saw Lois and Clark. "Oh, hi," he said, putting the hamburger back down.

"We didn't see you there," Lois said, looking back at Clark, who shook his head. She was a bit chagrinned with herself; normally she noticed details like that right away.

Harry hadn't expected to see these two again so soon. Two reporters, one of whom seemed to pride herself on poking her nose into other people's business, were not exactly his idea of who to spend his first evening in Smallville with. He'd even put an Ignore-Me charm on himself, keying only his waitress into the spell so she would be able to wait on him. But he couldn't put a Silencing Charm on himself and still talk to the waitress, so Lois had heard him speak to her. "So what are you two doing here?" he asked, still smiling.

"Uh, we live here, remember?" Lois said, deadpan. "At least until we find an apartment in Metropolis." She smiled. "Clark and I are going to look at some this weekend!"

"Good for you!" Harry said, wishing he could turn around and eat his hamburger in peace. "I hope you find one soon. I found one here in town just today."

"Really, where at?" Clark asked, wondering how he'd found one so fast.

"At the Talon," Harry said.

Lois and Clark glanced at one another, surprised. "The Talon's open again?" Lois asked. "When did _that_ happen?"

"Mr. Hubbard said it just opened a few weeks ago," Harry replied.

"You know Ben Hubbard?" Clark asked. How did this guy know so many people in town already?

"He gave me a ride into town this morning," Harry said, tentatively reaching for his burger again. "I was out walking around and he saw me in front of your farm —"

"Wait," Clark said. "You were at our farm? When was this?"

"A little before lunch," Harry said, shrugging.

"When did you get to Smallville?" Lois asked.

"Earlier this morning," Harry said, starting to feel like he was being interrogated.

"How'd you get here?" Lois wanted to know. "What did you do — walk?"

"No, I flew," Harry said sarcastically. "I had a service drive me from Metropolis." Trust nosy reporters to make a big deal out of nothing!

"I meant how did you get to Metropolis?" Lois clarified. "What flight?"

"I don't even remember," Harry shrugged. "It was a spur of the moment thing. After I got there I came to the _Planet_ building to talk to you and I met Clark. After that I got a ride to Smallville. I had the service drop me off outside your farm." That sounded pretty plausible, given that he was lying out of his arse.

"Well, it's too bad you didn't mention going to Smallville," Clark said, sounding somewhat mollified by Harry's story. "We could have given you a ride to town after we got off work."

"True," Harry agreed, "and I would have appreciated it, but as it is I already have a place to stay here now."

"At the Talon," Lois said softly. She smiled at Harry. "Do you think we could go have a look at it? I used to live above the Talon, I'd like to see how they've rebuilt it."

"Sure," Harry agreed, wondering what might be up Lois's sleeve. He hadn't even been in the apartment since he rented it.

Lois and Clark's meals arrived just then. "Do you want to sit with us?" Clark asked, and Harry transferred to their table after quietly canceling his Ignore-Me spell; although it would have been funny watching Lois and Clark forget he was sitting there as they talked, Harry didn't want them wondering why something like that kept happening.

The Talon was only a couple of blocks away, so after their meal the three of them left the Burger Emporium and walked to the next street over and down the block to where the Talon once again shone and blinked in all its neon elegance. Harry pointed to the small alleyway that led to the side entrance, but the coffee shop was still open so they went in through the main doors.

"Wow," Clark said, as they walked into the place. The Egyptian décor was gone, replaced by an art deco look and classic movie posters like "Gone with the Wind" and "The Wizard of Oz." "It's like a completely different business," he said, impressed.

"But who did it, I wonder?" Lois mused. "And why? They obviously had a lot of money to throw at this place."

"Do you want to get something to drink before we check out the apartment?" Harry asked, wanting to delay that situation as long as he could. He wasn't really sure if it was a good idea bringing these two to a place that obviously held a lot of memories for both of them.

Lois looked at Clark, then shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not," she said. "The apartment still will be there ten minutes from now — if someone doesn't shoot a missile at it." Harry raised an eyebrow at her but she didn't elaborate. Clark shook his head and pretended he hadn't heard what she said.

They sat down at a table and ordered beers when the server came over to take their orders. Clark was still taking the place in. "They've really brought this place back to life," he murmured.

"Whoever 'they' are," Lois added, sounding highly curious. Their server returned with their beers and she took a long swig of it, draining half the bottle. _That was impressive,_ Harry thought. He would have to remember that Lois Lane could probably hold her liquor pretty well. Clark, on the other hand, was only taking small sips from his bottle. Harry took a long draw from his own bottle, his first taste of beer in America. It didn't taste anything like butterbeer, was all he could say for it. And it was ice-cold, not the usual way one drank beer in Britain.

"It's not really any of our business who fixed the place up," Clark pointed out.

"Maybe not," Lois said, draining the rest of her bottle. "But don't forget _who_ owned this place when it was destroyed last year — LuthorCorp."

"If that's so," Clark said (in spite of what he'd just told Lois), "then Tess or one of her assistants probably decided to renovate the place, make it profitable again."

"But now Tess is dead," Lois pointed out. "And You-Know-Who is probably behind her murder."

_You-Know-Who_? Harry had looked sharply at Lois when she said that, but she probably wasn't referring to Voldemort, being a Muggle after all. Even the Department of Magic in the United States had barely been interested in Voldemort when he was alive; they considered him Britain's problem, not theirs.

Clark saw Harry's reaction and added, "Lex Luthor was head of LuthorCorp a few years ago, after the mysterious —"

"_Suspicious_," Lois interjected.

"— _suspicious_ death of his father, Lionel Luthor. He disappeared as well, presumed dead, but reappeared just a few months ago. The former head of LuthorCorp, Tess Mercer, had replaced him as CEO of the company in 2008. She was found earlier this year in the ruins of Luthor Mansion with a stab wound through her stomach," Clark finished grimly.

"Luthor somehow got it ruled as a suicide," Lois added. "But we know that's bull."

"Hey, Harry!" a familiar voice exclaimed, and the three of them turned to see a young redhead walk up to their table. She was holding a bottle in her hand and sounded quite exuberant. "How's it going?"

"Hi Ally," Harry said, almost but not quite surprised to see her. "Long time no see."

She giggled. "Yeah, about six hours now since you first came in here."

"Are you having a good time?" Harry asked her. Obviously she was, he thought to himself.

"Yeah, me and some of my friends are here celebrating the end of the summer," she said, raising the bottle she was holding. "Next week it's back to school again! Yippee," She added, ironically.

"Ally, is that a beer you're holding?" Clark asked. Lois looked at him, mouthing the words '_party pooper_.'

Ally looked at the bottle, then shook her head. "No, it's lemonade," she said, showing the label to him. "I'm too young to drink, you know." She turned back to Harry. "Well, I'm gonna go back to my friends. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry," she said.

After Ally left Lois turned to Harry. "Isn't she a bit young for you to be hitting on her?"

"_What_?!" Harry said, spraying his last mouthful of beer onto the table.

"Lois, he wasn't hitting on her," Clark objected. "She came over to _him_."

"And she's got a major crush on you," Lois added, ignoring Clark's remark. "You must've really charmed her when you were in here this morning."

"I was nice to her," Harry said, now on the defensive. "I didn't come on to her or anything, though!" _But she was obviously smitten with you this morning, remember_? He reminded himself. _You didn't do much to discourage that_.

Okay, guilty as charged, Harry decided. But it had been nice to talk to a woman, _any_ woman, who wasn't constantly belittling and arguing with him. He'd had enough of that from Ginny and her mum and friends over the past year.

"Okay, fine," Lois shrugged. "Whatever." She stood. "Why don't we go check out your new apartment now?" She turned and walked over to the stairs leading to the upper level.

"Sorry," Clark said softly as he and Harry rose and followed her. "This is kind of personal for her, she spent a lot of time here at the Talon and shared that apartment with another friend of mine, Chloe Sullivan. The night it was destroyed Lois just barely got out in time." Because Clark had ran into the apartment at super-speed and pulled her out, he silently recalled.

"I understand," Harry nodded. He and Clark walked upstairs after Lois and down the short hallway to the door to the apartment. Harry unlocked it and they went inside.

"Hmm," Lois said once inside. She looked around, examining everything quite closely. "They rearranged the floor plan," she noted. "The living room was bigger before." She put her hand on a wall. "There used to be a hallway here leading to another bedroom," she added. She shook her head. "I don't like it."

"Lois!" Clark said, a little embarrassed by her attitude. "You're not going to be living here anyway."

"Good thing," she muttered. She smiled at Harry. "I'm sure it'll be nice for you, though," she said.

"I hope so," Harry said. "For now it'll work."

"How long do you plan to stay in Smallville?" Lois asked, still looking around. Clark sighed softly at the intrusiveness of her questions.

"I don't know," Harry said, smiling. "Like I said, this is mostly a spur-of-the-moment thing. I might decide to pack up and leave next week." _Then again, I might not_.

"Well, good luck with it," Lois said, bored now that her curiosity had been slaked. "Let's go, Clark." Without waiting for a reply she walked out of the apartment.

Clark sighed again. "Sorry," he said again. "She's not usually like this."

"I heard that!" Lois yelled from the hallway.

"When are you two getting married?" Harry asked, smiling, to break the tension.

"Honestly, I don't know," Clark said, shaking his head. "We had a wedding a few months ago, but it got — interrupted. So now it's on hold until — whenever."

"I'm sure you two will be very happy together," Harry said, hopefully with enough sincerity Clark wouldn't think he was being sarcastic."

"Have _you_ ever been married?" Clark asked him.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. When Clark raised an eyebrow asking for more information, Harry just said, "Don't ask."

"Come on, Smallville! Let's get a move on!" Lois's voice came from somewhere downstairs.

"She used to call me 'Smallville' when I first met her," Clark explained as he and Harry walked downstairs.

"Still does, obviously," Harry commented. Clark nodded ruefully.

At the base of the stairs Clark shook Harry's hand. "It was good seeing you again," he said. "Thanks for showing us the apartment."

"Yes," Lois added, shaking his hand as well. "Sorry if I gave you a hard time tonight. I guess my sense of humor can get out of hand sometimes."

"No problem," Harry said. "Come on, I'll walk you two back to your car."

"You don't have to," Clark tried to beg off.

Harry shrugged. "I feel like stretching my legs a bit before I go to bed." _And I want to see what you're driving as well_, he added to himself. _For future reference_.

They walked out the side door of the shop into the alleyway outside, then turned toward the street. At the same moment a figure stepped into the mouth of the alley and moved toward them. Seeing him, Clark stopped. There was a gun in the man's hand. That wouldn't be a problem if it was only him and Lois, but he couldn't use his abilities openly in front of Harry. "Back inside," he said quickly, moving Harry and Lois back toward the door.

But the door wouldn't open. "It's locked!" Lois said. "Harry, do you have a key?"

"Yeah," Harry said, pulling the key from his pocket, but it was too late. The man with the gun was only a few feet away now.

"Hands up!" the guy said menacingly. All three of them raised their hands in the air. Harry dropped his key, hoping to distract the robber, but the gun didn't waver.

"Hand over your wallets," he growled, brandishing his weapon. "Hurry up!"

Clark slowly fished out his wallet, looking for an opportunity to do something, _anything_, to protect Lois and Harry. Lois, for her part, expected Clark to figure out a way to disarm the guy without giving away his powers. That's how a Superman would handle things, after all.

Harry had taken out the wallet in his back pocket and was holding it out to the guy, who snatched if from his hand, along with Clark's. "Hand over your purse, lady," he snarled at Lois.

"Here," she said, holding it out. When he reached for it, however, she pulled it back, just out of his reach. He stretched to grab it and she dropped the purse, grabbing his arm and twisted around and back, pulling the guy forward and off-balance. At the same moment Clark grabbed his gun and twisted it, disarming him and throwing it away, then pushed him into the ground, knocking the breath out of him. He grabbed the guy by the back of his collar and pulled him back on his feet, seemingly with no effort. Holding the guy's arms behind him, Clark told Lois, "Call 9-1-1. I'll take him out to the street, we can wait for the police there." Clark hauled the guy up the alley, still effortlessly even though the guy was bigger than Harry. This was hardly the mild-mannered guy he'd met in Metropolis earlier today!

Lois had her phone out. "Come on, bright eyes," she said to Harry, then into the phone as the 9-1-1 operator came on the line.

"Be right there — I have to get my key," Harry said. He hadn't seen where it fell, but that was no problem. _Accio key_, he thought, and it zoomed into his hand. He turned to follow Lois and Clark out of the alley, but hesitated a second, curious.

_Accio gun_, he thought, and a small revolved jumped into his hand. It appeared to be a normal Muggle weapon, except —

Except there was a bend in the barrel of the weapon, rendering it useless. Someone able to do that would have to be strong — Hagrid strong. This would bear further study, Harry decided. But he didn't want to arouse suspicion if Clark or the police came looking for the weapon. Facing away from the front of the alley, Harry slipped out his wand and tapped the gun. "_Gemino_," he said softly, creating a duplicate of the weapon. He slipped the original and his wand into his jacket pocket, then placed the duplicate gun back on the floor of the alley. He then jogged out of the alley to find Lois and Clark still holding the guy who'd tried to rob them.

The robber was trying to talk his way out of the situation. "Come on, you guys, I was just fooling around. It was a _joke_. I wasn't really gonna rob you."

"You should've thought of that before you pointed a gun at us," Lois snapped.

"Uh, if it's okay with you," Harry said, making himself sound very nervous. "I'm going to go back inside. This has really shaken me up." He did _not_ want to be around when the coppers showed up, at least not until he had something resembling valid Muggle identification.

"Sure," Clark nodded. "We can tell the police what happened. If they need to talk to you we'll tell them how to get ahold of you." Harry nodded and went back inside the Talon.

The police arrived shortly and took the man into custody. Lois and Clark gave their versions of the story. "That was pretty gutsy of you," the police officer told them. "But in the future, don't offer any resistance and give the perp a reason to harm you."

"Yeah," Lois muttered after the cop had gone. "Like the bad guys never harm you if you just do as they say."

"You told me that Harry stopped a guy from picking his pocket at the Metropolis Airport." Clark reminded her.

"Yeah, he did."

"He seemed pretty rattled by that robber," Clark mused.

"Maybe he's not used to having a gun shoved in his face," Lois suggested. "They don't have guns over in England."

"Could be," Clark agreed. "It just seemed like he'd be a bit braver than that."

Lois smiled and leaned against him. "Well, he's no Superman, is he?"

"I guess not," Clark smiled back. "Ready to go home, Miss Lane?"

"Ready, Mr. Kent," Lois laughed, and the two of them got into their truck and headed back to the Kent Farm.

=ooo=

Later, alone in his new apartment, Harry took out the robber's weapon and examined it more closely. The bend in the barrel was apparent — you could see by holding the gun and looking down the sights that the weapon couldn't be fired. If the robber had been trying to bluff them with a non-working weapon it hadn't worked out well for him.

Harry kept looking and found something else as well, something even more unusual. There was a _fingerprint_ on the barrel, but it was not a normal fingerprint that was left when you touched something. This fingerprint was pressed _into_ the metal, not on it. Harry could feel the ridges of the fingerprint. He doubted even Hagrid could do something like this.

Had Clark managed to bend this weapon with his bare hands, leaving an impression of his fingerprint as he rendered the weapon useless? If he had, he was a lot stronger than a normal person. Maybe that was what Harry had felt when he first met Clark the other day, the overwhelming presence he radiated when Harry first got close to him. He hadn't felt it so much last night, but he'd been concentrating more on not giving any more information to Lois than he had to. Even then, Harry realized, Lois had made comments implying she was still nosing about, looking for more information on Harry.

Harry looked around the room, trying to decide what to do with the weapon. He might want to study it more in the future, but he certainly didn't want to leave it lying around in his apartment in case someone came around snooping. He could put Muggle-repelling wards on the place, but that would mean he'd have to keep dropping them every time someone came over. It would arouse less suspicion if people didn't get anxious or afraid every time they got near his place.

Harry suddenly remembered the blank wall where Lois had said another room had been. Invoking his Supersensory charm, he looked past the wall and saw a short hallway leading into a small room, maybe three by four meters. He Disapparated, appearing a moment later inside the room.

It was pitch black, of course, but Harry solved that a moment later by bringing out his wand and silently canting _Lumos_, filling the room with wandlight. The room was empty except for scraps of building material; the builders had evidently used this room to store supplies while they worked on the main rooms. Harry pointed his wand at a piece of sheetrock, Transfiguring it into a small table, and placed the robber's gun on the table. It should be safe in here until Harry needed it again. He Apparated back into his living room and extinguished his wand.

So — Clark was stronger than he appeared. And as his fiancée, Lois would have to know that. So they had secrets of their own, it seemed. Well, if either Lois or Clark got too snoopy about Harry's private affairs, he might have something he could use to make a deal with them, a sort of mutual non-disclosure pact, as it were. He changed from his street clothing into pajamas, then crawled into bed, falling asleep thinking thoughts of, strangely, meeting Ally earlier that day.


	3. When Harry Met Zanny

**Chapter Three  
****When Harry Met Zanny****  
**

_Updated_ 9/28/2013

**=ooo=**

With only a week before the Hogwarts Express once again left Kings Cross Station to travel to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Diagon Alley was filled with parents and students buying supplies and equipment for classes. Cauldrons, potions equipment, books and writing supplies were flying off the shelves of their respective shops. In Weasley Wizard Wheezes, boys and girls were eyeing jokes and novelties to try on one another (and on the Hogwarts staff if they could get away with it).

In a café not far from the Weasley shop, two Ministry employees were enjoying a midday lunch, a rarity during these busy days preparing for the new school year. It was unusual that they ever had a chance to eat together during the day considering how long they had known one another. And that they were married to each other.

"How was your salad?" Ron asked, looking at the last few pieces of food on his wife's plate. He'd had a bite of the grilled Diricawl that had come with it and had declared it delicious. Diricawl was some of the best bird meat you could get in the wizarding world, but it came at a premium price. Ron had opted for a more mundane roast beef and gravy sandwich and chips.

"Fine," Hermione said, finishing it the last bite and taking a drink of water to wash it down. "How was your sandwich?"

"Good," Ron nodded, using a fingernail to remove a bit of roast beef from between his teeth. Hermione tried not to make a face as she watched. She'd tried to tell him, at least conjure a toothpick, but Ron couldn't be bothered. He slumped forward on the table. "Gad, I'm knackered! I wish I could skive off this afternoon."

"Why don't you," Hermione suggested. "You've got enough personal time, don't you? You could pick up Rose and Hugo at your mum's, put them down for a kip and take one yourself."

"I wish," Ron grunted. "The new Head, however, thinks otherwise." He referred to Kent Savage, the new Head Auror, who'd been appointed to the position by the Minister for Magic after the Wizengamot voted to sack Harry. "We're short-staffed as it is — nobody gets time off these days."

"That doesn't seem right," Hermione frowned. "What about Aurors who have children going to Hogwarts? Won't they get time off to bring them to Kings Cross?"

"Not likely," Ron shook his head. "I'm glad we've got five more years before Rose will be going."

"It's _six_ more years," Hermione reminded him. "Rose is only five."

"Five, six," Ron shrugged. "Whatever — I'll try and clear my calendar for that day."

"I don't know what Hugo's going to think when his big sister goes off to Hogwarts," Hermione pondered. "I think he wants to go even more than she does, and he's only three!"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I know James is chomping at the bit to go off to school. He thinks he's going to get that Map I told him about." Ron had mentioned the Marauder's Map to his godson James a year or so ago, and since then it was the only thing James wanted when he got to Hogwarts.

"I wonder where that map is now," Hermione mused, a bit somberly. "Do you think Harry still has it?"

"Of _course_ he still has it!" Ron barked a laugh. "But I don't reckon James is going to get it his first year at school, though. Hell, even Fred and George didn't hand it over to Harry until his third year!"

"Have you talked to Harry lately?" Hermione asked him quietly. She hadn't mentioned his name aloud to anyone since the Wizengamot voted to terminate him as Head Auror. She'd wished she could have done something about that as Solicitor General of wizarding Britain, but could only enforce current wizarding law, and the Wizengamot had in effect drafted a new law removing Harry from the office of Head Auror; there was nothing she could do to challenge that. Unless she was able to show that the Wizengamot had acted illegally. She was quietly looking into that now; so quietly, in fact, that she hadn't even told Ron yet.

Ron shook his head. "No. Haven't heard a thing from him in the past week, not since he was — was sacked." After everything Harry had done for wizarding Britain and the world, what the Wizengamot had done to him was shocking, especially on nothing more than the word of a single witch. Even if that witch was his only sister. The real power behind their play, as Harry had pointed out just before they sacked him, was with the Malfoys, who wanted him gone, for reasons known only to them.

"Where's he at, do you know?" Hermione asked Ron.

"No idea," Ron said. "Probably hiding somewhere." He leaned forward and added in a whisper, "he's making it hard for Ginny to serve him."

Hermione blanched. "What? No!" Her voice went to a whisper as well. "Are you saying she's going to _divorce_ him?!"

Ron nodded. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone that, by the way. Not even you. _Especially_ not you — she doesn't want Harry to hire you to handle his part of the divorce."

"If you weren't supposed to tell me then why did you?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Because I think Ginny's gone barking mad," Ron muttered, anger in his voice. "She's convinced he's been lying to her, cheating on her, and hiding his money from her."

Hermione leaned forward, closing the gap between them. "Has he?" she asked, her voice still quiet.

"No, no, and — not really," Ron said. "He's got vaults set up for his kids' schooling and school supplies. That's where his money's gone. The vaults are in his and his kids' names only — Ginny can't touch them unless she gets a divorce decree so they have to divide up their money. And all of her money from her Holyhead Harpies days is gone." _Or so well-hidden even _I_ can't find it_, Ron added to himself.

"I don't think she'd do that," Hermione said doubtfully.

"But she will," Ron disagreed. "Like I said, she's gone barking. I tried to talk to her about what she's doing to Harry and she cursed me with that bloody Bat-Bogey Hex. Took me ten minutes to get it off me."

Hermione expression was grim. "I need to talk to him, Ron. He needs someone to help him fight this! If the Malfoys influenced his dismissal there's no end to what they might want to do to him."

"I know it," Ron lowered his head into his hands, framing his face in a look of helplessness. "But I've got no clue where he's at, Hermione! Look!" He reached in his pocket, taking out a small round mirror. "I've tried reaching him on our Two-Way Mirrors but he doesn't answer. All I see is blackness." It was true; there was no reflection in the mirror at all, it was completely blank. "Wherever he's at, he's not talking to me or anyone in the Auror Office. I've asked."

"Well, we have to find him, somehow," Hermione declared. She stood up. "And I have to get back to the Ministry, I've got loads of work to get finished today."

Ron stood as well. "All right, I'll put some feelers out with my contacts, but listen — do not mention anything about this to _anyone_ at the Ministry! I don't want one word of this getting back to Ginny. If she finds out I'm looking for Harry she'll want me to tell her where he's at, and she can be pretty mean if she doesn't get her way."

"Oh, come on," Hermione shook her head disbelievingly as they walked toward the exit of Diagon Alley. "Ginny was always pretty assertive but I can't believe she's as mean as you're making her out to be."

Ron snorted. "Clearly, you haven't been around her much in the last year or so."

**=ooo=**

"Mr. Potter, it's six a.m., time for you to wake up."

Harry groaned and rolled over, trying to ignore the small timepiece on the chair next to his bed that was trying to wake him up. After it had repeated that same sentence for the tenth time, he finally rolled his legs off the side of the bed and sat up.

"Mr. Potter, it's six-oh-one a.m., time for you to —"

"All right, shut it — I heard you." Harry forced himself to his feet and walked slowly into the bathroom. He ran cold water into the sink and splashed it onto his face, to convince himself he really should be up at this incredibly early hour.

"Time to make the donuts," his told his reflection, repeating what one of the other morning employees at the Talon had said to him a few days ago. He had no idea what it meant other than donuts were some kind of sweet fried pastry that people in America ate in the morning.

Actually, a place called Donut Delight made the donuts the Talon sold in the morning; they, along with several other items, were delivered just before the store opened at seven a.m. The only item on the menu they made here was coffee — the 75 or so variations in ingredients that Harry had to learn so he could serve the customers who filled the shop every morning looking for their caffeine fix.

He slipped into the shower, letting the hot water wash the sleepiness from his body and work out the morning kinks. He was 31 and not getting any younger, he reminded himself; that was barely an adult in the wizarding world but among Muggles, 30 and older was considered fully adult and no longer part of the young adult scene. That was why his brand-new Kansas driver's license gave his birthdate as 07-31-1987, making him 24. Harry hummed a catchy tune he'd heard on the Muggle radio; when he'd asked, someone had told him it was called "Magic Man."

Out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his middle, Harry stepped up to the mirror and regarded the stubble on his chin. Wearing a few days' growth of beard was also common among young adults, but as an Auror Harry had always kept himself clean-shaven. He took the small shaving tool he'd brought with him from Britain out of the medicine cabinet. It looked like a safety razor; it would even shave you if you lathered up your face with shaving cream and dragged it across your tender facial skin, but it was enchanted to make any hair it passed over vanish. Harry passed it over his whiskers, watching them disappear like — okay, like _magic_ — beneath it. In 30 seconds he was completely clean-shaven once again. You didn't even need after-shave, but Harry splashed a little on anyway, for the aroma.

He left his apartment and went downstairs to the Talon. Late last week he'd learned that the kids who normally opened up the shop in the morning were going back to school the following week, and they were going to be short-staffed until they found replacements. Harry had talked to Sarah the manager, asking her to hire him to help open up the store. She had accepted and now Harry began his mornings setting up the coffee urns and preparing the various coffee grounds used in making the different styles of coffee they served. It was a little more complicated than the coffee he'd made at the Auror Office back when he and Ron first started there, but the principle was the same — everything here was just more and bigger. Harry put on an apron and began preparing the coffee urns: he filled each urn with purified water, then put a filter in each coffee basket and filled the basket with the selected blend for that urn. He put the basket back into the urn, making sure it was seated properly, then replaced the lid and turned on the urn. The water began heating; soon it would percolate up through the stem and drip through the grounds in the basket, turning it to coffee.

Other employees straggled in as opening time approached. Tina, the head waitress, was a middle-aged lady who wore her hair in a bun and wore glasses that reminded him vaguely of Rita Skeeter's — they weren't bejeweled as hers had been, but they were about the same style. Fortunately, Tina was a much nicer person than Skeeter had ever been. She called out a greeting to Harry as she came in, and Harry waved back at her.

Doris, another waitress, was younger than Tina but more quiet and reserved than Tina. She wore a full-length dress that went down to her ankles, and the only part of her you could actually see was her face and hands. She rarely spoke unless you spoke to her first. When Harry had asked Ally why she dressed like that Ally had said she was something called a "Mennonite," which was a kind of religion. Harry had nodded when she told him, as if he understood, then promptly stopped worrying about it. Doris nodded at Harry as he walked past her while she was refilling the napkin dispensers, but as usual she said nothing. Harry smiled at her and kept moving.

Last to arrive at the shop, predictably, was Sarah. She normally showed up 10 or 15 minutes before opening to make sure everything was "in order and ready for business," as she put it. It was Sarah's job to prepare the cash register, pretty much the only thing she did every day except supervise the other employees. After checking with Harry that the coffee was brewed and ready to serve, and making sure both Tina and Doris were properly attired and had their ticket books and pencils ready, she unlocked the front doors and let the half-dozen or so morning regulars in for their morning cup of joe. Harry also helped prepare specialty items like lattes, cappuccinos and espressos, but the need seldom came up; most people in the morning just wanted a regular cup of coffee, with maybe a different blend to suit their taste.

Except for the Smallville High crowd, who usually began stopping by the shop a little before eight on their way to school. They liked the lattes and espressos to help them get started in the morning. The shop was always busiest between 7:45 and 8:30 as students and teachers both stopped by for their morning coffee, latte or espresso.

"Hey, Harry!" a familiar voice called out, and Harry peeked around the coffee urns to see Ally waving at him, a fresh cup of latte in her hand. Harry smiled and waved back as Ally turned and walked out the door. Harry stared after her a moment, wondering how long it was going to take her to get the hint that he wasn't really interested in a high school girl. She had told him last week that she was a junior, which put her age around 16 or 17. That was roughly the same difference in age that Tonks and Remus Lupin had been; not that big a deal in the wizarding world, but between Muggles it was quite a gap, if Lois Lane's reaction to the idea of them being together was any indication. It had been interesting talking to Ally when he first got here, and she'd even helped him find a place to stay, but that was as far as it was going to go.

Maybe.

By nine a.m. the place had settled down to the regulars who sat and chatted while sipping on refills or read the town newspaper, the Smallville Ledger. Ben Hubbard was there, Harry noticed, talking with his farming buddies and drinking his regular morning coffee, now on his fourth refill.

Tina was motioning for him to come over. "Harry, I got a new customer — would you be a dear and see if anyone needs their cup refilled?"

"Sure," Harry nodded and took a pot of their house blend out on the floor. He refilled a few cups before stopping at Hubbard's table.

"Hi, Mr. Hubbard," Harry nodded to him and the other men around the table. "Refill?"

"Hey, young feller!" Hubbard grinned at Harry. "Sure, fill me up again!" As Harry filled his cup Hubbard asked, "Say, how come a healthy young guy like you ain't got a real job?"

_That_ was a rude question, Harry thought, but he didn't let it bother him. "What do you mean?" he asked, keeping his voice calm.

"Well," Hubbard gestured at him, "just look at you — got yer apron on and pourin' coffee for us menfolk. Wouldn't you rather be out working on a farm like a real man?" The other farmers around the table grinned and snickered.

"Not really," Harry said, filling the other men's cups.

"Well, why not?" Hubbard demanded.

"I don't think I could spend as much time in here drinking coffee as you do," Harry informed him. "I'm more of a tea man myself."

"Huh?" Hubbard said, confused, but Harry was already headed back behind the counter, smiling to himself. He went into the back to begin cleaning the two urns he'd changed out from the front this morning. He had more important things to take care than letting some old farmer take the piss out of him.

**=ooo=**

Harry's shift ended at 2:30, but he usually hung around in case the kid they'd hired for afternoons, a high school senior who came in after his last class needed any help. Before he went off-shift Harry brewed himself a pot of tea, the one concession Sarah allowed him since very few people in Smallville drank hot tea in the summer, and filled a cup. He found a comfortable chair, one of the cushioned ones that were scattered along the wall of the shop, and sat down, setting his cup on a nearby coffee table. There was a copy of the _Ledger_ lying unused in the seat; he began leafing through the paper, looking for items of interest in the town.

Smallville wasn't exactly the quiet little town Clark had portrayed to him when they had first talked. It had its share of crime if the daily police report was any indication. Mostly speeding tickets and running red lights, but there seemed to be a fair number of burglaries, robberies, and purses snatched or stolen. The kid that had tried to rob them outside the Talon the other night had been mentioned last week. No, not quite the sleepy little town Clark had made it out to be. But then, Clark wasn't what he made himself out to be, either, not with the strength he possessed.

During the past week Harry had casually asked around about Clark Kent, to see what the townspeople of Smallville knew about him. It turned out Clark was something of a local legend around Smallville. He was on the school paper, the Torch, in high school, and joined the football team during his freshman and senior years, winning the state championship the second time around. He'd been part of the relief team when a tornado swept through town, and he was always willing to help anyone in need.

In addition to the _Ledger_, Harry also found old copies of the _Daily Planet_ that had been dropped into various magazine holders around the shop. A few of the stories in them were about someone called the Red-Blue Blur, or just The Blur, someone that moved too fast to be seen or easily photographed, who ran around Metropolis stopping crimes or helping out people in need. The paper had photographs of a emblem burned into walls or into the ground, an emblem shaped like a shield with a stylized "S" in it. The most recent editions of the Planet had taken to calling the person this shield represented "Superman," because of the S in the emblem. There was even a drawing of this Superman, though the resemblance to Clark was pretty vague. Harry decided he wouldn't be one bit surprised if Clark turned out to be this Superman fellow.

The thing was, if snoopy reporter Lois Lane, whose byline he'd seen several times in the _Planet_, hadn't revealed that Clark was Superman, maybe she could actually keep a secret. Of course, given that the bad guys would probably try to kill Lois if they knew Clark was Superman, keeping quiet about him made a lot of sense.

A group of high school girls walked into the shop, seating themselves around a large table in the middle of the service area. Harry was getting a tingle from his attention detectors — several of the girls were looking his way. Keeping his eyes on his paper Harry invoked the Supersensory spell to observe them in turn. Ah, now he could see why they were staring at them: Ally was in the group. The girls were laughing and whispering to one another, with barely concealed gestures in his direction. While Ally seemed to be arguing with them, she was clearly enjoying the attention.

Harry sighed. Ally hadn't gotten the message that he wasn't interested. Well, not _really_ interested. It was one thing to have someone to chat with, quite another to actually become involved in a relationship with them. She didn't even know how old he was, he'd never told her.

But on the other hand, he did have a driver's license that said he was 24 years old, so did he really consider himself too old for her? Did he really even _want_ a relationship with her, or merely companionship?

Ally suddenly stood, and Harry nearly flinched as he realized what she intended. She was coming over to talk to him! _Perfect timing_, he thought. He did not want to let this girl down in front of her friends, the embarrassment would probably mortify her to no end. But he also had to avoid leading her on. This was going to be an interesting conversation, Harry decided.

"Hi, Harry," she said quietly as she stopped next to his chair.

Harry looked up as if he'd just noticed her. "Oh hi, Ally," he said, smiling. "How's it going?"

"Good," she said, "really good. Getting back into school and all that, you know." She nodded toward the other girls at the table behind her. "Just — just thought we'd stop by and have something before we headed for home."

"Kind of hard to give up old habits, then?" Harry asked. Even if they weren't that old, he thought to himself. Was she here to see him or just hanging out with her friends? Her emotions, Harry could feel through their eye contact, were all jumbled up and whirling around inside her. She really didn't know what she wanted.

Okay, that made two of them, then.

"I suppose," Ally said. She glanced at the table behind her, then back at Harry. "Would — would you like to come over and say hi to them?"

_Well of _course_ I would_, Harry thought sarcastically. _That wouldn't be awkward at all_, _inviting a bloke you barely know to meet all of your high school friends_.

Aloud, however, he said, "I would be delighted to," and stood, bringing his cup of tea with him. "Hello, ladies," he said as he and Ally approached the table. The girls there were looking at him with varying expressions: surprise, interest, perhaps even a bit of jealousy in a couple of cases. "How are you all doing?"

They all nodded, murmuring "Fine" or "Just great," and Ally beamed at them, enjoying being the center of attention along with her new friend, Harry Evans.

"So you're from England?" one of the girls asked, a thin brunette with dark green eyes.

Harry nodded. "From Britain, yes. We all call it Britain over there, by the way."

"Why?" the brunette asked.

Harry smiled. "Well, Britain is short for 'Great Britain,' which means the united countries of England, Wales and Scotland. The United Kingdom is made up of Great Britain and Ireland, or what you'd call Northern Ireland, since most of Ireland is separate from the U.K."

"Really?" one of the other girls said. "I didn't know that."

"So which country are you from?" the brunette asked.

"I'm from England," Harry said. "I was born in a town called Godric's Hollow, in the West Country, but moved outside of London when I was a year old." _And don't ask me why_, he added silently.

"Why?" the brunette asked.

_Hell_, Harry thought. _He didn't want to lie, but_— "My father changed jobs about that time, and we had to travel to London so he could work."

"What did your father —"

"Jennifer," Ally broke in. "I think that's enough questions for Harry, don't you?"

Jennifer shrugged and took a sip of her cappuccino.

"Well," Ally said, then smiled, clearly not knowing what to say next. "I suppose…"

"Well, I need to refill my tea," Harry said, holding up his cup. "It's gotten a bit cold."

"You're drinking hot tea?" a third girl, a pretty blonde with long, straight hair, scrunched her face in disgust. "In the _summer_? Ewww!"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "We're rather odd ducks over in Britain, you know—we like our tea hot and our coffee cold."

"Ewww!" the other girls said.

"I like my tea hot, too," a new voice said.

Harry turned to the doorway. A man stood there in a dark blue, expensively tailored suit, wearing a black glove on his right hand. A man with piercing blue eyes and no hair on his head.

The man stepped into the shop, extending his gloved hand toward Harry. "Hello," he said. "I'm Lex Luthor."

Harry shook the offered hand. So this was one of the Luthors. They had been mentioned in the _Planet_, too, notably since Lex Luthor had been presumed dead since 2008, as Clark had told him.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said. "I'm Harry Evans."

Harry was suddenly aware that the girls behind him had gone absolutely silent. He used Supersensory to glance behind him without turning. The expressions on the girls' faces showed surprise and fear — they were afraid of this man. Harry wasn't surprised by that; his Foe detectors were practically screaming deception and untrustworthiness about the man.

Luthor stepped around him and addressed the table of girls. "I hope you ladies don't mind if I borrow Mr. Evans for a few minutes. We have business to discuss."

_We do_? Harry thought, keeping his face still. _That's news to _me.

"We — we were just leaving," Ally stammered. She and the other girls quickly gathered up their bags and books and practically bolted from the shop.

"Why don't we find someplace to sit and talk?" Luthor suggested.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Harry asked, pointing to the counter. "I do have some hot tea on, if you'd like a cup."

"Are you on the clock right now?" Luthor asked.

"No."

"Do you like working without getting paid?" Luthor inquired.

Harry held up his own cup. "I'm going to get some for myself anyway," he pointed out. "Won't be any bother to fix you one as well."

Lex smiled. "You're not afraid of work, then. Good, I like that in a man." He watched as Harry refilled his own cup then poured another one. He put the cups on a tray with a small creamer and a condiment container filled with sugar packets and substitute. Harry followed Lex over to a corner where two chairs were side-by-side with a small table between them. Putting the tray on the table, Harry handed Lex the fresh cup then picked up the creamer.

"Cream?" he asked.

Lex shook his head. "Just some sugar substitute. I'm watching my weight."

Harry handed him two packets of sweetener and took two sugars for himself, swirling them into his cup, then added a touch of the cream.

"I expect you've heard some things about me by now," Lex said, coming right to the point.

"Just what I've read in the _Daily Planet_," Harry replied, wondering why Luthor was even talking to him like this. After all, they had only just met.

"Due to some health issues I've been out of the country for some time," Luthor said. "I recently improved enough to travel, and I decided to come home and take over LuthorCorp once again. I'm in the process of reorganizing it and renaming it LexCorp."

"I read about that," Harry nodded, waiting to see where Luthor was going with this line of talk. He'd been trying to get a read on Luthor since they sat down, but the man seemed like a natural Occlumens, quite unusual for a Muggle — his emotions were suppressed, nearly non-existent. It was clear he was on guard, but against what? Did he know about the existence of wizards and Legilimency? "But what I'm really wondering, Mr. Luthor, is what you want to talk to me about."

"Call me Lex," Luthor said. "And in case Sarah hasn't mentioned it to you yet, LexCorp is the owner of this establishment as well as the apartment upstairs. I saw the rental agreement paperwork this morning, and I wanted to come here and hope you enjoy your stay here in America. I haven't been to Britain in some time, but I very much enjoy its history and traditions. In case you didn't know, Luthor Mansion was brought over from Scotland in 1989 and reconstructed stone by stone."

"That _is_ interesting," Harry said. He was also impressed by the amount of money that must have taken. Lex Luthor, and his father Lionel before him, were supposed to be billionaires many times over, but that was a _lot_ of money to spend on living arrangements.

"Come out and I'll show you around sometime," Lex suggested, and Harry nodded without making a commitment.

"Also, I'd like to welcome you to the LexCorp family," Lex went on. "As one of our employees, you'll receive benefits and leave time as you continue to work for us. Do you plan to stay in the United States for a while?"

"Well, I don't have any immediate plans to return home," Harry said, still making no commitments.

"We can help with any immigration and naturalization issues that might arise," Lex assured him. Harry nodded again, still trying to figure out Luthor's angle on this.

"In the meantime," Lex finished. "Enjoy your new apartment, make yourself at home there and have a good time with your new job." They stood and shook hands once again, and Lex walked out of the shop.

Harry watched him leave, rubbing the fingers of his right hand together, the hand he'd shaken Lex's gloved hand with. He'd gotten a flash of — something — as they shook. Harry was concentrating, trying to isolate the image he'd received. It was vague, dark, not fully there, but as best he could recollect he'd gotten an image of —

His apartment.

There was something about his apartment that was on Lex's mind. That momentary image, along with the feelings of deception and subterfuge that fairly radiated from Luthor, were making Harry suspicious about the security within his apartment. He was going to have a _very_ thorough look round for anything concealed there. With someone like Luthor in the picture, a man with no scruples and a never-ending supply of money, one had to tread _very_ carefully.

**=ooo=**

Faster than a speeding bullet — much, _much_ faster — Clark, in his Superman suit, was speeding across North America on his way to Alaska. The wire services reported distress signals coming from a cargo ship in the Gulf of Alaska, well outside the usual shipping lanes. Normal rescue efforts would arrive too late to save anyone in the frigid waters off the southern coast of Alaska. This was, as Lois had jokingly said the other day, a "job for Superman."

Clark adjusted his hearing so he could locate the radio distress signal the ship was sending out. It was a non-standard frequency — more and more details about this ship were not standard procedure for commercial vessels transporting cargo between Alaska and the continental states — but he couldn't worry about that now, not while lives were at stake.

Several miles before he reached the vessel Clark shot down toward the water, then plunged beneath the waves to approach without being seen. For now, he planned on maintaining a very low-profile presence, to let people get used to the idea that Superman was around to help when usual emergency procedures would not be as effective. Without his help, the best the ship could do was to get its crew off the sinking ship and hope rescue teams arrived before they froze to death.

Hardly slowed by the icy waters, Clark approached the ship. There was a large hole in its hull; the ship was listing to one side — it would soon sink beneath the waters at the rate water was flooding the ship.

Clark examined the tear in the hull. Jagged edges of metal were bent outward, suggesting that some internal explosion had ruptured the hull. He bent the edges inward, closing but not sealing the tear. Sealing it was going to be a problem while he was underwater; his heat vision would also heat the water surrounding the rips, making it boil. The water would also tend to cool the metal even as he heated it, making it harder to weld the edges together.

But, short of getting the ship to a drydock, he had little choice. The nearest drydock was hundreds of miles away, and Clark estimated this ship's total weight at around 70,000 metric tons. That would be the most weight he'd ever lifted to date. If he wasn't careful, the ship would buckle under its own weight if he tried to lift it out of the water.

His X-ray vision showed that no one was trapped inside any of the compartments that were adjacent to the holes. The water inside the ship would heat, too, causing him to use even more heat vision. If too much heat went into the water inside the ship, it could turn to steam as well, possibly causing more damage to the ship. Fixing the hull would have to be fast and precise. Clark smiled to himself; good thing he remembered his welding class from high school!

Heat beams shot from his eyes, precisely focused and narrow as possible to avoid heating the surrounding water. As the metal turned red-hot and began to flow, Clark forced the edges together, creating a weld. He continued along the edges of the tear, moving as fast as possible. When the hole was entirely sealed, he moved to the middle of the ship and pushed it upright again. It sat lower from the extra water inside the hull, but the ship's pumps would be able to get rid of it now that no more water was flowing in.

Clark flew up into the air, pausing to wave at the crew who were clapping and shouting thanks to him. He then shot high into the sky, heading back toward Metropolis, hoping to get back before anyone noticed he was even missing. It was only about 2500 miles, a matter of seconds.

As he neared Metropolis, however, Clark happened to glance toward Smallville, and he saw something that made him pause. There was a long, white limousine outside the Talon; that vehicle could belong to only one man. Clark paused, focusing his vision down into the coffee shop. There was Lex Luthor, as expected, but the man he was talking to gave Clark pause — Harry Evans!

Why would Harry be talking to Lex? Was there some connection between them? Clark was tempted to stop and listen in on the conversation, especially since Lex had pretty much declared he and Clark were enemies. But he had never actually _revealed_ that Clark was Superman since they last spoke, nearly two months ago, which was puzzling. If Luthor was moving around in public again, Clark would have to keep an eye on him, see what he was up to. And he would keep an eye on Harry Evans, too. Just in case he and Lex were up to something together. The new Justice League team was having a meeting later this evening; perhaps he would bring up the subject of Luthor again then. Pulling himself away from watching Harry and Luthor talk, Clark shot off toward the _Daily Planet_ building.

**=ooo=**

Harry had just finished the last of his eggplant Parmesan when his server stopped by his table once again. "Would you care for another glass of wine, sir?" she asked, smiling engagingly.

"I would, thank you," Harry nodded, and the server took his wine glass to refill it. One more glass of wine wouldn't hurt, Harry decided. He was in no hurry to go home anyway; he still had to check his room for any kind of listening or viewing devices — his conversation with Lex Luthor earlier had left him with the feeling that the apartment might be bugged somehow.

The server returned with a full glass of wine and Harry thanked her, reminding himself to leave a generous tip for taking such a long meal at her table. He sat back, sipping the wine slowly, and pondered what he might do tonight rather than go home. Ally and her friends had been at the Talon every night until closing that week — whether it was to see Harry or they just liked hanging out at the place, Harry wasn't sure, but he wasn't going tempt fate.

Clark and Lois weren't home yet; just before coming to Gallo's he'd popped out to the road that ran past the Kent Farm and checked for their truck — it wasn't there. They might have stayed in Metropolis to eat tonight.

He could go bowling — there was a Bowl O'Rama west of town… Harry chuckled to himself at that thought. It might be fun to go and roll a couple of back-to-back perfect games, just to shake the place up a bit, but…no. He didn't need to call even that much attention to himself.

And that left — what? Pub-crawling? Well, that was better done with your mates, and Harry didn't have many mates in Smallville as yet. Unless you wanted to count Ally and her friends at the Talon. And he didn't, not really.

Maybe he should go apply to the Smallville Police Force. He'd had plenty of experience in law-enforcement. But it might be hard explaining why he carried a stick instead of a gun! Harry stifled a cough that was itself covering a belch. The last glass of wine may have been a bit much, he was staring to think a bit fuzzily. Well, if he couldn't be a cop, maybe he should get dressed up like that vigilante in Gotham City, that guy they called the Batman, and run around busting bad guys' heads. That would be some fun, wouldn't it?

Harry thought about that for a few seconds. Hmm, why not?

Harry laughed. Because it was bloody _stupid_ was why not! You didn't run around dressed like a _bat_ and expect anyone to take you seriously, even if you were wiping out the criminal element of the city. That was a fool's errand anyway — there were always other bad guys to replace the ones you locked up.

But maybe…_maybe_ there was a way to do that smarter. In the real world, when you and your opponent were more or less evenly matched — like Aurors and Dark wizards for example, you wanted your law enforcement presence to be obvious and impressive. Aurors had to be the best of the best at what they did because wizards who went Dark were almost always more powerful than the average magic-user.

But if you _didn't_ want to be known, _didn't_ want to call attention to yourself, it didn't make sense to dress yourself up in a gaudy costume and run around beating up cat-burglars and low-life punks. If Harry Evans née Potter was to do something like that, no one would ever see or hear a thing when the bad guys were rounded up for the clink.

That might be worth a try tonight, Harry decided. But he'd have to get out of Gallo's to do that — the restaurant owner had been either geeky or paranoid enough to have hidden cameras covering the dining area; Harry could feel his scyring detectors alerting him to being observed. He glanced unobtrusively about the room; most of the people there were in groups of twos and threes, all engaged in either conversation or dining. There were a few tables with only one person — a pretty blonde just a few tables away was looking around furtively as she picked at her food. He saw her glance in his direction then look away. On the prowl for a man, perhaps? There was an older man having dinner alone; maybe Harry should introduce those two to each other.

He finished his glass of wine, put a couple of twenties on the ticket the server had tried to inconspicuously place on the table, enough for the meal plus a very nice tip, then got up and walked out of the restaurant.

The streets of Smallville were quiet right now. It being a school night, only a few teenagers were rolling up and down the streets in their cars. The rest were probably at home doing their homework or on the phone with their friends. Driving and talking on the phone seemed to be the two major activities of the younger set in this town, Harry had observed. Well, that and texting one another, which was a new concept to Harry. Why spend time typing your message to one another when you could just _say_ it in much less time?

Harry turned into an alley, walking further in until it was nearly pitch black. His detection alerts had died as he left Gallo's — he wasn't being observed. He reached into his mokeskin pouch, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and covering himself in one well-practiced, fluid motion, then Apparated to the top of a nearby building. From here he could see what was going on several streets over with his Supersensory ability. He didn't see anything except the same teenagers in the same cars dragging up and down the main street. They were harmless as long as they didn't start racing each other up and down the street. But that rarely happened except on weekends, and then usually they went out to one of the country roads. Still not too smart, in Harry's opinion, but he'd played Quidditch in school, which was arguably more dangerous, so he didn't judge.

An hour later there was still nothing worse than a kid throwing a bag of trash out of his car, missing the trash container he was aiming for. This was bloody boring, Harry decided. He might as well go back to his apartment and hunt for bugs. He threw back the hood of the Cloak and stretched, trying to decide whether he should keep watching or just chuck it in for the night. Maybe if he tried this at the end of the week something interesting might happen. He smiled to himself, thinking that if Clark and Lois were in town maybe he'd just shadow them. After all, he'd been with them when the gunman had tried to rob them. Maybe they were trouble magnets.

"_There_ you are," a sultry female voice close to him said. Harry froze. "I've been trying to find you for some time now."

Harry scanned the area around him with Supersensory. There was no one. "Who is that?" he said in a low voice, pulling the Cloak's hood back over his head. At the same moment his spell detectors alerted him he'd been touched by magic.

"Pretty neat, that invisibility cloak of yours," the female voice added. "But I know where you're at now."

Harry deliberately moved several feet from where he'd been standing. "That's not going to help," the voice told him. "I've got a tag on you now that tells me right where you're at, Mr. Evans."

"You have me at a disadvantage," Harry said from beneath his Cloak. "And it's rather rude to cast a location spell on an adult wizard."

"Rude? Really?" The voice sounded amused. "I'm not the one sneaking around the tops of buildings watching people from beneath an invisibility cloak. What are you doing, some kind of stealth dating exercise?"

"Why do you ask?" Harry shot back. "Are you available?"

There was a short silence. "Maybe," the voice said, still amused.

"I'll tell you what, then," Harry suggested. "I'll show you me if you'll show me you."

"An interesting proposal," the voice said thoughtfully. "But I've already seen you, remember? You haven't seen me yet."

"Then it seems like I have more to gain than you have to lose," Harry said, smiling.

The voice laughed musically. "Very smooth, Mr. Evans! I accept your proposal. You can go first."

"Why?" Harry asked. This verbal fencing with someone he couldn't see was very frustrating. And she already knew he was a wizard, but what was _she_? A witch? That seemed likely, but he didn't know what she was trying to prove here. She wasn't answering, and Harry finally decided to stop screwing around and call her bluff.

"You know what?" he said. "Nevermind. Here, have a look." He pulled back the hood so his head was fully visible, then pulled off the Cloak so the rest of him was fully visible as well.

A puff of smoke shot up from the rooftop, then coalesced into the figure of a young woman wearing something that looked like a cross between a tuxedo and a bikini, with fishnet stockings, stiletto heels, and a black top hat. "Bravo," she said, softly clapping. "And here I am."

She was quite pretty, Harry observed, with long black hair that framed blue eyes and glossy red lips. Harry would have guessed her age at around 30 or so if she'd been a Muggle, but now that she was visible Harry's detectors revealed that she was a witch, though he didn't see a wand in her hand. "Very nice," Harry said, meaning it. "So, what do you want?"

"Right to the point," the woman smiled. "I'd rather find a nice place where we can sit and talk in comfort, if you don't mind — a rooftop is not exactly the place for a pleasant chat."

"It's more private," Harry demurred. "You're not exactly inconspicuous in that get-up."

"Oh, this old thing?" the woman looked down at herself. "I'm sure I can find something more appropriate for the Smallville night life scene." Her clothing transfigured into a low-cut black dress that ended around her upper thighs, along with a tiny black purse and high-heeled shoes. "How does this look?"

"A bit slutty," Harry said, irritated that she seemed to be toying with him.

The woman looked at him with raised eyebrow and a pout on her lips. "Who's being rude now?"  
"Sorry," Harry said. "It's a very — nice — dress." _Any higher_, he thought to himself, _and the mystery would be over_. "But you still have me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don't know yours."

The woman still had that pouty expression on her face. "I'm Zatanna," she said, almost sullenly. "I don't know about you, Harry Evans, but I'm tired of waiting for you to invite me somewhere for drinks." She gestured with one hand and murmured something under her breath, and two chairs and a table appeared.

_Not bad_, Harry thought, slightly impressed. That had looked like wandless magic; conjuring objects out of thin air was not trivial magic for most wizards even _with_ a wand. She had done it with a wave of her hand, though he hadn't caught what spell she used.

Zatanna was watching him expectantly. Finally she gestured toward the table. "Are you going to ask me to join you for a drink?"

"Well, it's _your_ table," Harry said matter-of-factly. "I was waiting for you to invite _me_." Two could play her little game, he decided.

"As you wish, then." Zatanna gestured toward a chair. "Will you join me?"

"Don't mind if I do," Harry said, and stepped toward the table when she did. Zatanna stopped beside her chair, expecting Harry to get it for her, but he simply sat down. She gave him a _Really?_ look then sat down a moment later without comment.

"What would you like to drink?" Harry asked, getting into the same game-playing mode Zatanna seemed to be in.

"A margarita, I think," Zatanna said after a moment's thought. But when Harry reached for his wand she put up a hand to stop him. "Don't bother — I like the way I make them." She waved a hand over the table and murmured something under her breath. A margarita appeared on the table between them, complete with salt and a wedge of lime on the rim.

This time, Harry was listening carefully. She had said, "_Atiragram a em erujnoc_!" Though he wasn't sure what kind of spell that was, the words didn't match any spell he'd ever heard, wandless or not. Not to be outdone, he pointed his wand at the table and conjured a glass mug, then filled it from the cask of Merlin's Best Mead he kept in his mokeskin pouch.

Harry raised his mug toward Zatanna and she responded by clinking his mug with her margarita glass. "To your good health," she said, sipping the margarita.

After a couple of sips of mead Harry leaned toward Zatanna. "Now are you ready to tell me what you're doing here?"

After another sip of her drink Zatanna put down the glass and looked at Harry. "Mostly just checking up on you," she told him. "Smallville, Kansas isn't exactly a place where expatriate British wizards come to hang out."

"Who said I'm expatriate?" Harry asked.

"You rented an apartment," Zatanna pointed out, taking another sip of her drink. "If you weren't staying you would have gone to a hotel or 'ported back to Metropolis when you'd had a look around."

"Maybe I don't want to pay fifty dollars a night for a hotel room," Harry said evenly. "Renting an apartment costs only a third of what I'd pay."

"Which also means you intend to stay for a while," Zatanna argued. Harry shrugged; he couldn't dispute that point.

"How did you even know I was here?" Harry asked. He had an idea that Zatanna wasn't from Smallville herself — she seemed about as foreign to this place as he did.

Zatanna shrugged and picked up her drink, taking another sip before she answered. "Word gets around," she said evasively, "especially in a small town like this."

"Right," Harry muttered skeptically. "Come on," he said, catching her gaze as she put down her drink. "Who told you about me?"

Zatanna smiled. "A little birdie told me," she said, waving a hand airily. But Harry caught the flash of a thought crossing her mind, a fleeting image of a face that made him think of…Clark. Or maybe Lois, he wasn't altogether sure. But someone who'd met him had gotten in contact with this Zatanna somehow and she'd sought him out.

"So what's the verdict?" Harry wanted to know. "Am I a menace to Smallville or what?"

"It depends on what you plan on doing," Zatanna answered. "When I followed up you here, you came were looking for something — what did you think you were going to find other than kids dragging Main Street — someone burgling the Savings and Loan?"

"I didn't have any idea what I might find," Harry shrugged. "That's why I came to look, to see what was out there." He suddenly realized what she'd said. "You _followed_ me up here? Were you in the restaurant when I was there eating?"

Zatanna shook her head. "Just a figure of speech," she said dismissively.

Harry's deception detectors were going off. That was an evasion — she had been in the restaurant! "You were that blonde eating alone, weren't you?"

Zatanna's face went stony. "I don't know _what_ you're talking about," she snapped, no longer pleasant. "Just be careful what you do here in Smallville," she warned him. "We don't want people here being hurt needlessly."

"'We?'" Harry echoed. "Would that 'we' be you and Clark, maybe?"

"Who? Clark Kent?" Zatanna laughed, though Harry could tell the laugh wasn't genuine. "I haven't seen Clark in months, not since — not since I did a gig in the Ace of Clubs last year." And that was a lie, too, Harry knew.

"Don't worry about me," Harry said. "I just want people to be safe."

"Then be careful," Zatanna urged. She stood and Harry stood with her. "I'll be watching," she told him, then vanished in a puff of smoke. The chairs, table and empty margarita glass disappeared. Harry's mug of mead fell, shattering on the roof.

"Damn, I knew I shouldn't have used such a big mug," Harry grumbled. The broken mug and spilled mead disappeared. "I'll be watching, too, Zatanna," Harry told the empty rooftop.

So Clark or perhaps Lois had sent Zatanna to check up on him. That was interesting; it implied that one or both of them knew that wizards existed, though they might have known because they knew Zatanna was a witch. And now they would know that _he_ was capable of magic, too, assuming Zatanna went back and told them about their encounter.

Zatanna wasn't any kind of witch that Harry had dealt with before. The Department of Magic people that he'd interacted with had carried wands and used spells similar to what was taught at Hogwarts, but Zatanna could perform powerful wandless magic using a language he hadn't heard before. Pondering what she'd said, Harry used his wand to write the phrase phonetically in magical glowing letters on the rooftop:

AT EER AG RAM A EEM ERJ NOC

Harry stared at the letters for nearly a minute, trying to form magical words or phrases from them he knew. What she'd said didn't make any sense based on magical theory. She'd conjured a drink from nowhere with this phrase. Even Harry couldn't do that! He could conjure the glass mug, but it wasn't possible to create food, especially a drink like Merlin's Best Mead, from nothing. So how had she done it?

After several minutes of staring at the words Harry finally vanished them with a wave of his wand, then Disapparated from the roof, appearing a moment later next to the side entrance outside the Talon. The place had closed for the night some time ago, which suited him fine. He let himself in and walked up the stairs to his apartment. His detectors were telling him there were eyes on him; hidden cameras, he was sure of that, which was why he hadn't Apparated directly into his apartment. He walked over to the chair in his living room and sat down heavily, tired from the early day and his late-night chat with Zatanna. After a minute his head nodded forward and he went to sleep.

Or so it seemed. In reality, Harry had evoked his Supersensory spell once again and was looking around the walls and corners of the apartment very carefully, searching for Muggle listening and viewing devices. His detectors could tell him he was being spied upon but since microphones and cameras weren't magical in nature they didn't interact directly with his magic. He would have to find them by looking, not detecting. The advantage was, looking with magical senses was still looking, and even though he couldn't see things far away with Supersensory, he could examine things that were in normal visual range in minute detail.

It took a while, but Harry eventually located cameras and microphones covering most of his apartment. They were even in his bathroom, which wasn't surprising but did rather annoy him — the buggers didn't much care what they saw as long as they were watching him. The mics were harder to find as they were barely bigger than the head of a nail, and shaped like one to disguise their true function. The cameras weren't much bigger but it was harder to hide them, they were about the size of the cameras in Muggle smart phones.

Now what to do about them?

He couldn't just disable them, they would realize immediately he was onto them. And Harry really wanted to find out who was behind these intrusions into his privacy. If he just disabled _one_ camera in a strategic location, whoever had bugged him might try to replace it while he was gone. Harry smiled at that thought.

He could set up some special surveillance spells of his own. Harry set to work. He found a fly buzzing around his apartment and Imperiused it, commanding it to land directly on the camera that covered the majority of his living area. That blacked out roughly one-fourth of his apartment from covert surveillance. He then commanded the fly to stay there no matter what. Without food, the fly would die within a day or two at the most. Harry then stood, taking care to move into the blacked-out section of his apartment, and began silently casting his detection spells. In a few days, he hoped, someone would take the bait and he would find out who the bugger was working for. For now, he would try to ignore the cameras, doing things normally like before. Except he wouldn't be using his bathroom for much more than showering, and then only with a towel and as he got in and out of the shower. He went into his bedroom, changing into pajamas as he carefully kept his back to the cameras, and climbed into bed.

But he wasn't ready for sleep just yet — there were other things to think about, like the witch he had just met that night. She had something to do with Clark, Harry was sure of it. They might be related somehow, Harry speculated — they both had dark hair and blue eyes. But Clark's apparent strength wasn't a characteristic of most wizards. Wizards were more durable than Muggles, but their strength was usually bog-standard human.

The Zatanna / Clark situation was going to be difficult, Harry realized. He was going to have to learn more about her, find out what the source of her magic was. The words of her spell still made no sense to him. He repeated the sounds of the spell she had made over and over in his head: _at eer ag ram a eem erj noc, at eer ag ram a eem erj noc…_ The sounds made no sense magically. They shouldn't have any power — you might as well say them backwards!

_Hmm_, Harry thought. Well, it was almost childishly simple, but the inscription on the Mirror of Erised had been reversed and jumbled English: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _— I show not your face but your heart's desire. So Zatanna's spell, reversed was: Con jre mee a mar ga ree ta.

Ha! _Conjure me a margarita_! Harry bumped his forehead with the heel of his hand. Idiot! That should have been _immediately_ obvious to an Auror with 13 years of experience!

Well, he'd gotten it now, but the deeper question was how this reversed spellcasting worked. Was that how magic worked in America, or was it something unique to Zatanna? Harry resolved, then and there, that figuring out how Zatanna's magic worked had risen to the top on his list of things to do.


	4. Where's Harry?

**Chapter Four  
****Where's Harry?****  
**

_Updated_ 10/11/2013

**=ooo=**

Ron was waiting in the hallway leading to the elevators on level two of the Ministry offices, where Hermione was finishing up her work for the day as Solicitor General. His own workspace was a rather small cubicle that he now had to himself, it having been cleared of anything Harry had been working on. Rather than wait there, as he had before Harry's departure, Ron now always stood near the elevators; it felt good to get out of there and into the relatively open spaces of Level Two.

He had been there several minutes, nodding as other Aurors walked by on their way out of the Ministry, when Hermione appeared carrying her handbag. "Hello, dear," she said to Ron, rubbing his arm affectionately as they both moved down the hall to the elevators. "How was your day?" she asked.

Ron shrugged. "About the usual," he grunted. This scenario was nearly the same every day they left together; both of them knew better than say anything of a personal nature inside the Ministry. The walls almost literally had ears, after all. The elevator arrived, nearly filled with other Ministry personnel leaving for the day, and they entered, taking the short trip one floor up to the Atrium.

"We're not too late," Hermione remarked idly as they walked toward an exit Floo, checking her watch. "Molly should just be starting dinner about now."

"She'll probably ask us to stay," Ron said, almost as a warning. His mother enjoyed seeing all of her grandchildren, in fact the more the merrier, but on some days Ron preferred a quiet evening at home with his wife and children.

"Do you want to?" Hermione asked, stepping into the Floo line for Ottery St. Catchpole. "Dinner will keep until tomorrow night."

"I think I'd like to take the children home," Ron said, giving Roland Miller a perfunctory wave as the man ahead of them stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in a whirl of green flames. Roland was with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, a position his father Arthur Weasley had once held.

"Alright, then," Hermione smiled. "I'll see you at the Burrow." She patted him on the back. "Off you go, then," she said, urging him toward the Floo.

Ron nodded and stepped into the fireplace. This Floo was preset for Ottery St. Catchpole, so he did not need to say the destination aloud. Green flames shot up around him, and Ron found himself whizzing past grate after grate until he finally emerged in a small room hidden within the Muggle postmaster's office. The room was furnished with three cushiony chairs and a small water fountain, but no one was there at the moment. Roland must have immediately Apparated away once he arrived. Ron did the same, turning on his heel and flickering away to the Burrow.

He arrived just outside the gate, seeing two small boys who were running around the yard with sticks, pretending they were broomsticks and they were playing Quidditch like their father had during his days at Hogwarts. Seeing Ron, both boys waved madly at him, and Ron smiled and waved back. James and Albus were growing up fast, he thought; it was a shame their father wasn't here to enjoy it.

Hermione appeared a moment later and the two of them walked through the gate toward the Burrow. James and Albus ran over to them, still on their pretend-broomsticks. "Hi Aunt Hermione! Hi Uncle Ron!" they both shouted.

"Hi James! Hi Albus!" Hermione greeted them in reply. "All done with your lessons for today?"

"Yes!" both boys said. "Are you staying for dinner?" James asked Ron, a hopeful look on his face. Ron usually regaled his nephews with stories about his work as an Auror, a profession that James intended to follow his father into.

"Not tonight, James," Ron said. He watched with a pang of guilt as James's expression fell in disappointment. "Maybe tomorrow night — it'll be a Friday and we can stay up a bit later, okay?"

"Sure," James said, still sounding glum. His expression suddenly perked up. "Will you tell me more about the Marauder's Map, Uncle Ron?"

"If you like," Ron grinned, and both James and Albus beamed excitedly. "Tomorrow night, then," he told them, and the boys ran off to continue their Quidditch practice.

Inside the Burrow, Molly Weasley was bustling about the kitchen preparing supper for her extended family. "Oh hello, dears," she said as they came inside. "Dinner is just about ready!"

"We're not staying tonight, Mum," Ron said, feeling another pang as Molly's countenance fell. "But I promised James and Albus we'd stay tomorrow."

"Plenty of stew to go round if you change your mind," Molly said, hinting at the choice she wanted Ron to make.

"Thanks, Mum," Ron demurred. "It's been a long day." In fact he had news for Hermione that couldn't be said here in the Burrow, not as long as Ginny was here.

It was a strange situation. Ginny had gotten Harry thrown out of his own home, number 12 Grimmauld Place, but she spent most of her time here at the Burrow with her children, James, Albus and Lily, leaving the house empty except for Meacher, the house-elf who had replaced Kreacher after his death some years ago. In effect Ginny had abandoned her home to come live with her parents again. She was still working for the _Daily Prophet_ — on many days she went out to watch Quidditch games being played across Britain, so she could report the scores and comment on the games in her sports column.

Hermione was getting Rose and Hugo ready to leave, making sure their coats were buttoned and Rose's school books were packed away in her bag. Rose had begun her home-schooling when she was three years old, and Hermione sometimes joked with Ron that she was smarter at five than he'd been when he'd started Hogwarts at eleven. Hugo was beginning to look enviously at the books his big sister read, though it seemed like it might be more of a competition for him than a thirst for knowledge. Either way, Hermione decided, it worked out; she wanted both of her children to have the advantage of as much Muggle education as possible when they went off to start their magical education.

"Hullo, 'Mione." Hermione turned to see Ginny standing in the doorway with her daughter Lily beside her.

"Oh, hi Ginny," Hermione smiled, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Ron had told her too much about his sister's recent actions for Hermione to be genuinely happy to see her. Not that she disliked Ginny now — far from it, but Harry was her friend, too, and she didn't want to have to choose between him and Ron's family. "Hi Lily," she added, waving to her niece.

"Hi," Lily said, smiling shyly at her aunt.

"Staying for dinner tonight?" Ginny asked. "I know Mum would love to have you. Dad doesn't get to see much of his other grandkids lately, now that he's helping Savage take over the Auror Office."

"Ron's wanting to get home tonight," Hermione said, a trace of apology in her voice. "We thought we'd stay later tomorrow night."

Ginny beamed. "That'll make the boys happy," she said. "They love hearing Ron's stories." She reached down and picked up Lily. "Let's go get ready for dinner," she said to Lily. "See you later," she added to Hermione, then went downstairs.

Hermione gathered up Hugo. "Come on, dear," she said to Rose. "Let's go find Daddy." They walked down the stairs to the hallway between the kitchen and living room; Ron was still in the kitchen talking to Molly about Arthur's new job.

"He's very excited about it," Molly was saying as she directed a stack of bowls from the cupboard to the table. A drawer opened and spoons floated out of it and to the table as well. "It doesn't seem like much of a position — 'Personal Assistant to the Head Auror' — but it's really quite important, if you think about it."

"It is," Ron agreed. What he _didn't_ say was that Savage probably wasn't quite ready for that position and needed as much help as he could get. Arthur Weasley had been with the Ministry for over three decades — even through most of the dark time when Voldemort ruled it from the shadows — and he likely knew more about the workings of the Ministry than anyone else there except Kingsley Shacklebolt himself.

"I just wish the new Head Auror didn't keep Arthur there so long," Molly added, as the pot of stew floated over from the stove to the table. She looked hopefully at her youngest son. "Are you _sure_ you won't stay for dinner, dear?"

"Thanks, Mum," Ron said again. "Tomorrow. I promise."

Ron and Hermione led their children out the back door, waving bye-bye to Nanna, who waved back enthusiastically. Out through the back gate, they then doubled around to walk out to the road leading toward Ottery St. Catchpole. The Weasley home was closer to the town than the Burrow was, and less secluded. It was also just less than a mile away, so it was easier on the children to walk home than to Apparate while carrying them. It also had the side benefit of a bit of exercise for both Ron and Hermione. Ron sometimes kidded her that she needed to walk more often if she was ever going to get her girlish figure back. Since Ron had filled out a bit in the years since they first married, Hermione would smile and point out that he seemed to need walking even more than she. Part of Ron's daily routine was to spend a few minutes in the Auror Office's weight room, so he liked to thump his stomach in reply, pointing out how muscly it was.

The Weasley home was just at the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, in a recent addition to the town with modern streets and houses lining the streets, though not too close to one another, giving each home enough yard for living and playing space. The lawn was a bit thicker than their neighbors, the way Ron was used to having it from when he lived at the Burrow.

Ron pretended to get out his key to unlock the door; in reality he placed his right palm against the door, which recognized him and allowed access. That would only work for him, Hermione and Rose, plus a few other trusted family and friends like Ginny, his older brothers, and Mum. Harry was also recognized by the door, though Ron doubted he would be seeing Harry anytime soon. He was still anxious to tell Hermione what he'd learned today.

But first things first. While Hermione prepared their dinner, Ron sat in the living room with Rose and Hugo talking about what they'd learned that day. Rose was doing simple algebraic equations while Hugo was reading a year one primary school book. Hugo was impatient to get through with the book and move on to doing what Rose was doing.

"You're too young!" Rose scolded him. "You've got to learn to add and do your 'times by' tables first!"

"Do not!" Hugo insisted. "You never did!"

"You were too young to remember," Rose said patiently, as if talking to a small child (which she was, but the irony made Ron smile softly). "Besides, what's one and one?"

"Eleven," Hugo replied promptly, and Rose shook her head.

"See?" she told him. "You're stupid."

"Now don't say that," Ron told her. "Hugo will learn, just like you did."

Rose looked at her father and sighed. "I don't know," she said slowly, then leaned forward and whispered, "He can't even do one plus one!"

"Can too!" Hugo objected loudly. "You didn't say that before — you said one _and_ one!" He held up his two index fingers side by side. "See? One _and_ one make eleven!"

"He has a point," Ron said matter-of-factly, and Rose sighed again, exasperated.

"Dinner's almost ready," Hermione called from the kitchen, and Ron sent Rose and Hugo off to wash their hands, then went into the kitchen to set the table for Hermione.

"They're still going at it," Hermione remarked, hearing Rose and Hugo still arguing over who washed their hands the best.

Ron chuckled. "They take after their mum," he teased her. "You don't like to lose either, do you?"

Hermione gave him a penetrating look. "Well, you _do_ realize it is my job to win cases for the Ministry? A fine Auror _you'd_ be, for example, if you never brought in any Dark wizards!"

"You have a point," Ron admitted, placing four plates on the table. He was doing this by hand rather than by magic. He followed up with four glasses and four sets of silverware.

Hermione noticed this. "Tired?" she asked him, a little concerned.

"A little," Ron said, getting four napkins for them. He took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the beef stroganoff Hermione had made. "That smells delicious!" he announced, beaming at her.

"You're deflecting," Hermione said gently. At that moment Rose and Hugo ran into the kitchen, so she dropped it until later. They all sat at the table and Hermione filled everyone's plates.

The ongoing competition between Rose and Hugo continued. "Nanna gave me a book today about ancient wizards," Rose was saying. "It was really interesting!" She gave Hugo a baleful look. "But _he_ kept trying to read over my shoulder!"

"Hugo has to learn to read too, dear," Hermione said to her.

"But _I _was reading it!" Rose argued. "It's very distracting when someone is trying to read what you're reading," she added, sounding very important.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Hermione said, glancing at Ron, who had a tendency to read over her shoulder. "How is this: when you finish with the book, why don't you give it to Hugo to read?"

"Yes!" Hugo said loudly, believing he had won that engagement.

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another, sharing a quiet smile. Both of them encouraged their children to discuss what they'd learned, both with them, their cousins whenever possible, and even each other, but Hugo tended to be very competitive and Rose was — well, both of her parents felt she would be as smart as Hermione had been when she went to Hogwarts.

After dinner, with Ron in the kitchen doing the dishes, Hermione went over the reading Rose and Hugo had done while at the Burrow. Rose had completed the word problems in the chapter of the algebra book she'd been studying, and Hugo wanted to describe the story he'd been reading. Then it was time for bath and bed, and Ron joined his wife and children for the nightly tucking in.

"How late are we staying at Nanna's tomorrow?" Rose asked as Ron tucked her in. "I'm going to play Exploding Snap with James and Albus!"

"Me too!" Hugo exclaimed from across the room.

"No!" Rose said adamantly. "You're too little!"

"We'll talk about that tomorrow," Hermione said, ending the argument (for now, at least). "You two have a busy day tomorrow, so get to sleep."

"Okay Mum."

"Sweet dreams," Hermione said, and she and Ron went back to their bedroom and prepared for bed themselves.

"I think I need more sleep than they do," Ron said, smothering a huge yawn as Hermione pulled back the bedcovers for them. They both crawled into their large four-poster bed, pulled the covers onto them, and exchanged a kiss before Hermione took her wand off the bedside table and cast a Silencing Charm around them.

"Did you find out anything about Harry today?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Not good. Nobody's heard from him in weeks. If I didn't know better, I'd think he's left magical Britain altogether."

"He wouldn't do that," Hermione argued. "His children are still here. I can't believe he'd abandon them."

"Well, he wouldn't," Ron agreed. "Harry would stay and fight this. He stayed around all those years fighting You-Know-Who, didn't he?"

"You can say the name 'Voldemort,' Ron," Hermione reminded him. "It hasn't been Taboo for years now." Ron just shrugged.

"I saw Ginny's petition today," Hermione went on, shaking her head sadly. "She wants him served _in absentia_ so the divorce proceedings can proceed."

"Fat lot of good that's going to do her," Ron snorted derisively. "The Wizengamot's not going to nullify his rights just so his wife can take half his money away. It's not even her money in the first place!"

Hermione, however, did not look optimistic. "If the Malfoys are out for some kind of revenge there's no telling how much influence they can exert in the Wizengamot. They got him sacked in the first place — having his wife divorce him and take away half his money would be right up their alley."

"Isn't there anything _you_ can do?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Not directly," Hermione said. "I can only enforce the laws of the Ministry — the Wizengamot is technically the body that tells me what to do. Most of the time they don't bother with personal or domestic problems like this, but Harry has always been a high-profile person. I need to talk to him," she declared, giving Ron an intense look. "You've got to find some way for us to contact him so I can advise him what to do!"

"He didn't tell me a bloody thing about what he was going to do!" Ron objected, his voice rising. But he settled down a moment later, thinking. "Maybe I should ask Bill or Charlie — he might have gone to see one of them. Charlie's in Russia now, that's pretty far from Britain. It could be why nobody in Britain can find Harry."

"Talk to him and Bill tomorrow morning," Hermione nodded. She had gotten a look of concentration on her face. "Plus, I just remembered some that might help us find him if he's not with one of your brothers…"

"Really? What is it?" Ron wanted to know.

Hermione reached for her wand, but stopped. "If I try it now he might realize someone is searching for him…" She turned back to Ron. "You have this weekend off, don't you?"

"Sure," Ron said. "Why?"

"If I can locate Harry, you'll have a way to find him, wherever he's at, and bring him back home."

Ron gave her a wry look. "Assuming he wants to come back. I'm not going to try and _make_ him come home if he doesn't want to, Hermione!"

"He should _want_ to get things sorted out with Ginny," Hermione argued. "She's never going to let him see their children unless he settles things with her."

"I know," Ron admitted. Ginny could be vindictive, he thought to himself. She had learned from the queen of vindictiveness — Molly Weasley. Although Ron reminded himself that Mum had mellowed somewhat over the years after she'd killed Bellatrix Lestrange during the Battle of Hogwarts. Killing someone, even someone as completely evil as Bellatrix had been, did something to a person. Molly was much more easygoing now. "When I find him I'll talk to him about it, Hermione," he said. "But no promises."

"Good!" Hermione agreed. "Let's get some sleep, then. Tomorrow, make sure at work that no one needs you for the weekend and we'll find out where Harry's gotten off to, then you'll bring him back to Britain."

"Okay," Ron said. He smiled suggestively. "Sure you want to go right to sleep?"

Hermione yawned exaggeratedly. "I'm pretty tired…" She closed her eyes and laid back, pulling the covers up to her chin. Ron was giving her a disappointed look when she opened her eyes and giggled. "C'mere, silly," she said, pulling him on top of her.

**=ooo=**

Invisible and silent, Harry prowled the rooftops of Smallville in the early morning hours of late September, watching and waiting for something to happen in the streets below him. After his encounter with Zatanna a few weeks previously he had begun his late-night patrols of the town, in part to keep what had happened to Clark, Lois and him from happening to anyone else, especially people not adequately prepared to defense themselves, and partly to see if the witch would try to find him again.

It had not been a very productive period, crime-wise. Smallville, like some of the townspeople had joked, pretty much rolled up its sidewalks and went to sleep after 10 p.m. The only activity around then were the employees at the Talon and the Burger Emporium closing up shop and going home. The Bowl O'Rama also closed at ten, but it was far enough from the center of town that almost no one traveled through Smallville to get home after it closed.

That left only Harry up on the rooftops watching the streets below for something, _anything_ to happen. In the past few weeks he had prevented a collision between two teenage drivers, rescued a cat that had been treed by a dog, and righted and repaired a stop sign that a driver had knocked over before he'd gone on patrol.

Metropolis would probably be much more interesting, Harry kept reminding himself, though he had never bothered to stay there and check out the illegal goings-on at night. Metropolis was supposed to have "Superman," its new protector, guarding the city. From what Harry had been reading in the Smallville and Metropolis papers, Superman could fly, stop bullets with his bare skin, and lift tremendous weights like cars and trains with ease. There had even been mention in one of the stories of a rumor that he had caught the globe on the top of the _Daily Planet_ building when it fell after an accident last year, returning it to the top of the building. Harry had checked out that globe one afternoon from beneath his Invisibility Cloak, and that would have been an impressive feat.

It would be interesting to meet this Superman some time, Harry decided, especially if he was really Clark Kent, as Harry suspected. Clark was stronger than any normal human Harry had ever met, capable of leaving a fingerprint in gunmetal; it wasn't much of a stretch to think he could leap to the top of tall buildings or even fly. Harry wondered if he could get Zatanna to introduce them.

It was likely that Zatanna knew Clark, or perhaps Lois, because Harry had caught a glimpse of an image in the witch's eyes when they had met a few weeks ago. The image had been either Clark or Lois — Harry couldn't be sure, even now after having reviewed it again and again in his own Pensieve. It was one of the reasons he wanted to find Zatanna again: to get into her head a bit more and find out about her magical abilities. Her magic was unique, as far as Harry could tell; she spoke incantations in backwards English, reversing the sounds of the words to cast spells. That was quite a departure from the usual method of verbal magic spells and wand gestures.

But Zatanna had seemingly disappeared. Harry had been to theaters and clubs in Metropolis, Star City and Gotham City, even traveling to more distant cities like Keystone City and Coast City, where she had apparently performed as well. Other than the fact that she had appeared and that her performances had seemed like regular Muggle magic tricks, no one knew much of anything about the woman.

He did get an interesting tidbit of information from a waitress in the Ace of Clubs in Metropolis: when Zatanna performed there a few years earlier she had mentioned living at an estate she called "Shadowcrest." Harry had searched records in all the cities he had visited but could find no mention of a Shadowcrest anywhere. That implied Shadowcrest was hidden just as his own home, number 12 Grimmauld Place, was hidden from Muggles.

Harry vanished from the roof of the Smallville Savings and Loan, reappearing a moment later on the top of the Talon. Here he had a better view of Main Street, as deserted as it was. Harry stifled a yawn; it was about time to pack it in for the night; he would have to be up in a few hours for his shift at the Talon.

The sound of metal against metal suddenly caught his attention. Harry moved to the edge of the roof, looking down into the alley behind the Talon. There were two teenaged boys below, poking around in the trash bins behind the coffee shop.

Harry watched them, wondering what they were up to. Were they looking for discarded food? _Disgusting_, Harry thought, but he felt sorry for the boys if they were trying to find something to eat by rooting around in trash. A moment later, however, it became evident what they were up to: the two boys heaved the trash bin over, throwing its contents across the alley. They then ran laughing out of the alley.

Harry considered going after them, but what was he going to do — make them return and pick up the spilled trash? If the boys complained to their parents or even the local police he might have to explain why he was up at two in the morning keeping an eye on the trash in back of the Talon. He wanted to keep a lower profile than that.

Harry Apparated into the alley. The trash was spread out across the alley, filling the area behind the Talon with a rank odor. Well, he could fix the mess, at least. Harry waved his wand once and the trash bin righted itself. With another wave the trash in the alley lifted into the air, collecting itself into a single mass of garbage that floated over the open bin and dropped into it. He might have simply Vanished it but the town's trash service would be by in a little while and they might as well earn the job they did. With a bit of concentration Harry Vanished the odor left behind instead, leaving the alley the way those two boys had found it. Harry shook his head, once again disappointed at the end of his patrol. No real bad guys had been caught tonight, like all the nights he'd been out before. Was that incident with the gunman merely a one-time thing, a fluke that had made things seem worse in Smallville than they really were?

Checking his detectors, Harry sensed no eyes, real or electronic, looking at him. He removed his Invisibility Cloak and stowed it in his pouch, then walked around to the side entrance of the Talon. Letting himself in, he trudged upstairs to his apartment. The cameras in the hallway had been disabled a week ago, so Harry turned the doorknob as he mentally cast _Alohomora_, unlocking and opening the door.

No one had shown up to replace the camera Harry had disabled several weeks ago, so he had begun a slow sweep of his apartment, disabling the cameras spying on him one by one. A little over half of them now had their lens covered in some way or another, or their electronics had "malfunctioned," rendering them unworkable and leaving a little over half of his apartment surveillance-free. It had been several days since the last one went bad; about time for another one to fail. Harry smiled to himself, wondering how many of them would have to fail before Luthor sent someone to find out what was going on with his spy gear.

Harry stepped into a camera-free area of his apartment, using Supersensory to decide which one of the remaining cameras he was going to take out. As he looked over the still-working cameras, however, he noticed a slight tingle from his spy detectors. If he'd been within the viewing area of any of the cameras he'd expect a tingle, but there weren't supposed to be any eyes on him where he was now. Getting a tingle now told him he was still being observed.

Had one of the disabled cameras managed to begin working again? He looked over each of them in turn; none of them were watching him. So where was that tingle coming from? Harry moved slowly toward one of the disabled cameras, still keeping himself out of range of the other working cameras. The tingle increased slightly. It also _felt_ different than the tingle of electronic surveillance.

Harry's stomach was beginning to churn. He silently cast a magical detection spell at the disabled camera. The camera momentarily glowed a very dim blue. Damn! There was a _very_ subtle magical scyring spell on the camera! Harry had disabled the camera, but the scyring spell had continued to observe him!

With magic like _that_, he had to suspect Zatanna was behind it. His investigation of her for the past few weeks suggested she was as good at real magic as she was at Muggle magic tricks.

But would she be working with Lex Luthor? When Harry met Luthor a few weeks ago, the man was radiating deception and untrustworthiness. Harry had come away with the impression that Luthor had bugged his apartment in order to find out more about him. Finding Zatanna's magic cast onto the cameras, however, seemed like overkill. If Zatanna knew both Clark and Luthor, she might be playing them against one another. Either that or it was just a coincidence that Zatanna and Luthor had both bugged him. Harry didn't really believe in coincidences any more.

He was going to have to redouble his efforts to find out more about Zatanna. To do that, Harry decided, he would need to infiltrate one of the magical bars that were in the larger cities in the area. And to do that, he was going to need to find out more about American witches and wizards, more than what the British Ministry of Magic knew about them, which was likely more propaganda than fact. The Ministry and the American Department of Magic had not had good relations with each other for centuries now, ever since the Americans had fought for and won their independence from Britain in the late 1700's.

He was going to have to gather some information about American wizarding customs if he was going to pass as one. That would wait for tomorrow, Harry decided. But for now…

Taking out his wand, Harry cast a powerful Anti-Scyring Charm. The charm would break all of the magical scyring spells in his apartment and burn out all of the cameras and microphones. There was no point in being subtle any more. This might bring Zatanna to him once she realized her spells had been broken. He cast additional wards that would alert him if there were any magical intrusion or further attempts to observe him, then turned in for the night, thinking about what he would have to do to learn about what American wizards expected when they went out for a good time.

**=ooo=**

Ron and Hermione appeared in the entrance hall of their home, the only place in the house not protected by anti-Apparition and Portkey wards. Lily and Hugo were still at the Burrrow, having cajoled their parents into staying for the weekend, something Ron had subtly talked James and Albus into suggesting to them. It was convenient for the children to stay there since it allowed their parents to put the plan Hermione had devised into action, a plan that Ron half-jokingly referred to as _Operation: Where's Harry Potter_.

"Right, then," Hermione said, turning to him. "Your bag is all packed." She gave him a small pouch similar to the one she had carried for many years now. In it was clothing for several days, food that would last at least as long, and both wizarding and Muggle currency for incidentals as well as an array of devices used by Aurors in the field.

"Thanks," Ron said, accepting the pouch. "_Now_ are you going to tell me how you're going to find out where Harry's got off to?"

"I thought you might remember," Hermione said with a look of amusement on her face. "After all, you were there."

"Where?" Ron asked, not following her.

"Do you remember the mokeskin pouch Hagrid gave to Harry for his 17th birthday?"

Ron's brows were furrowed with confusion. "I guess so. But what's that got to do with finding him now?"

"When he showed it to me after, I checked it out a bit," Hermione answered. "It could hold more than its size suggested but not a lot more, so I suggested putting an Undetectable Extension Charm on it, the same as I had done with my own bag. Harry agreed and he temporarily gave me the bag so I could cast the charm.

"When I did that," Hermione continued, "I realized it would be good if we could locate Harry's bag if he should lose it for any reason. I added a location charm to the interior of the bag, where it could only be detected by someone casting a detection charm on the interior of the bag."

"Brilliant as usual," Ron said, impressed by his wife's depth of magical knowledge, even after all these years of being with her. "So, assuming Harry still has that bag, which is a safe assumption as I know he keeps it with him all the time, we should be able to locate him by locating that bag."

"Correct," Hermione agreed. "My only concern is that his personal detection spells may notice when I cast the locator spell. If that's the case you'll have to find him as quickly as possible, before he finds the charm and removes it from his pouch."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Ron assured her. "If he's close enough I can Apparate to where he is. If not I'll find someplace I can go to in the direction of the locator. Just tell me what spell you're going to use to locate the pouch."

Hermione gave him the spell, then readied her wand to cast it. "_Comperius Harry's pouch_!" she incanted, and her wand turned slowly in her hand, pointing westward and downward. "Oh, dear," she said in a small voice.

"Well, that can't be good," Ron observed. The angle of Hermione's wand suggested that Harry was underground. "Do you think someone's holding him prisoner somewhere?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's not that. The locator was very weak, as if Harry is very far away. My wand is pointed directly toward the pouch; if Harry were somewhere in Europe or Scandinavia, the angle would still be downward but not as steep as we just saw, and not toward the west. I think Harry is further away than we suspected."

"But there's nothing to the west except the ocean and —" Ron began, then realized what she was getting at. "Oh, hell. D'you think he went to _America_?"

"It would be the perfect place for him to hide," Hermione argued. "No one would think an _Auror_ would go there to hide." Ron nodded agreement. They weren't exactly chummy with the Americans; unauthorized Aurors found in America were detained for weeks before being returned to Britain. America fortunately did not have a prison like Azkaban but it still wasn't a pleasant experience to spend weeks wandless in a small cell, given meager food rations and constantly interrogated to determine why they were in America. The Americans were never too happy when British agents went roaming around their territories, for whatever reason.

"What do you think?" he asked her. "Do you think we should try to find him now?" It was one thing to pop over to France or Sweden, find Harry and pop back to Britain, but quite another to jump across the ocean trying to find Harry wherever he might be in America.

Hermione looked conflicted. "I don't know," she said slowly. "The Ministry doesn't need another incident with the Americans over incursions into their territories, but we're already at risk if Harry's over there right now. The Department of Magic knows who he is and that he's the former Head Auror." She gave Ron a look of determination. "I think you should try to find him and get him to come home. If you can do that without attracting the attention of the Americans, we can avoid a problem we don't need."

"Right, then," Ron nodded. "I'll go. But what are we going to do about getting me over there? America's a big country and Harry might be anywhere."

"I can handle that," Hermione said confidently. "And I have just the place for you to start." She walked into their living room, over to her writing desk, and picked up a spare quill. "When I was nine, Mum and Dad took me on a trip to the United States. We visited New York, but I remember they really wanted to see this place in the center of the country. We flew into this city called Metropolis and then drove several hours to the place. I was really quite excited to see it, I remember. I can still visualize the place."

"Ah," Ron nodded. He saw what she was getting at. "So you're going to set up a Portkey to take me there."

"Yes," Hermione nodded. She took a moment to recall the place in her mind, then tapped the quill, saying "_Portus_." The quill flashed blue.

She handed him the quill, saying "The Portkey will activate in one minute. Remember," she said urgently. "You _have_ to talk Harry into coming home, Ron! Whatever the problems between him and Ginny are, I can advise him and his solicitor on Wizarding law and his rights in a divorce proceeding."

"Okay," Ron said. On impulse he hugged her tightly. After a moment Hermione hugged him back, and they remained that way for most of the remaining minute. With only a few seconds left Ron let her go and stepped back. "I'll see you soon, love."

Hermione's eyes were bright. "See you soon," she echoed. Ron smiled at her, then in a whirlwind of color and whooshing wind he vanished. "Hurry back," she whispered to the empty room.

**=ooo=**

After Harry's Friday morning shift at the Talon he left the building, telling the other employees he would return later that day, but he then immediately Apparated to the hidden room in his apartment where he had set up a small magical potions laboratory and safe room using supplies kept in his pouch. The hidden room was charmed with every magical ward and protection spell he knew. After reading about Superman's X-ray vision he had added, not lead lining but a spell that made the room seem like a small space behind the wall, not like a room at all. If Superman were to find a lead-lined space the size of this room, it would certainly seem suspicious!

In the middle of the room was the long table he had Transfigured to use for his potion-making. At one end was his Pensieve. It wasn't nearly as big as the Pensieve Professor Dumbledore had owned, back when Harry was a student at Hogwarts, but he hadn't lived nearly as long as the Headmaster had. His cauldron, fashioned from Corinthian bronze, was near the other end. A high-grade alloy of silver and copper, it was one of the more expensive cauldrons made, necessary for top-quality potions work. His scales were accurate from .01 gram to 10 kilograms. He had removed the cupboards from his pouch and fastened them to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm. Only he would be able to remove them when the time came for him to leave this place, whenever that might be. The store of ingredients in the cupboards were warded from the effects of becoming stale or unusable by Freshening Charms, though Harry would eventually have to replenish his supplies in the long term.

Other devices acquired during his days in the Auror office were stored here as well. His Scyring Glass, a large round mirror with a polished oaken frame was nearby as he stood at the Potions table. Behind him was his Foe Glass, a tall, thin mirror on a floor frame that warned him if his enemies were closing in on him. Nearby was a smaller table with several silver devices placed on them.

The cauldron had been brewing a potion for the past 12 hours, a potion that Harry needed to put himself in the proper mental state if he was going to find magical locations hidden in Metropolis. The Scyring Potion would heighten his magical senses, allowing him to view sources of magical energy over a large area of the city. Aurors had been using the potion for centuries to help them find potential centers of Dark magic.

Harry added the final ingredient to the potion: a small amount of dirt from the center of the city, gathered just as the last rays of sunshine faded in the sunset, and stirred it carefully: ten clockwise stirs followed by three anti-clockwise ones, then five more clockwise. The potions color changed from a milky white to a lustrous vermillion, indicating it was ready to drink. Harry tipped the cauldron into a crystal goblet, staring at it for long seconds as he recalled its rather repugnant taste, then steeled himself and drank it down.

He shuddered and barely avoided retching as the reddish liquid went down his throat. It wouldn't do to waste any of the potion — he would need as much time as possible to find all of the magical hot-spots in Metropolis. He stepped in front of the Scyring Glass as the potion began to take effect.

Harry held up his hands, palms toward the mirror. "_Revelares arcanas magorum Metropolis_!" he said. An image of the city began to form in the mirror, viewed as if from a great height above it. As he stared into the mirror his eyes began to shine with their own light. The potion was beginning to work, increasing his ability to perceive magical energies. Locations with the city began to glow, dimly at first, but with increasing power as he continued to stare into the Scyring Glass.

There were not very many, which would give him time to study each of them in more detail. The Scyring Potion allowed him to see magical auras, revealing the inclinations and motivations of the wizards generating them. Lighter colors such as gold, green and blue indicated a person inclined toward good, while reds, purples and browns showed someone leaning toward the dark. There was one concentration of those colors in the area known as Suicide Slums. Harry mentally noted its position for future reference, but his primary concern now was to find where the "average" American wizard hung out in Metropolis.

There were a number of magical hangouts around Metropolis, but the largest concentration was, ironically, only a few blocks from the _Daily Planet_ building, in an area called the Plaza. Harry could just make out the name of the place, a restaurant and club called "Magic Hall." The mix of auras in the place showed it to be frequented by mostly good wizards with a few weedier elements hanging out there as well. He would start there, Harry decided, letting the effects of the Scyring Potion fade and end.

Moments later Harry had arrived beneath the cover of his Invisibility Cloak in a dead-end alley near the _Daily Planet_. He walked out of the alley, still invisible, and maneuvered his way toward the Plaza, avoiding as best he could the sidewalks full of people hustling and bustling their way to wherever they were going. It was slow going at first trying to avoid walking into people and being walked into until Harry reminded himself of an obvious solution: he cast a Muggle-repelling charm on himself, then continued on his way in relative ease as people moved aside at his approach. Someone watching from a bird's-eye view might have noticed a gap in the crowd moving along the sidewalk as people parted and converged around an invisible Harry.

The Plaza was a four-square block area of retail stores, dining establishments and nightclubs. It was slightly less crowded at this time of day, the middle of the afternoon — between lunch and dinner. There was a sign where a former nightclub, Club Metro, had been located, now defunct. But if you were a wizard, and you looked between the building and its nearest neighbor, a small ice cream shop, you would see another building widen between them, with a somewhat shabby-looking door and a glowing sign above it saying, "Magic halL." Harry sat down on a handy bench, leaving the Muggle-repelling charm on him so no one would accidentally sit down on him, and watched, waiting for someone to walk out of that door.

**=ooo=**

Friday evening in the center of Metropolis, in the tallest building in the city, a group of people met to discuss their mutual interest — the protection of the citizens of Metropolis, the United States and the world.

Watchtower, the code name for the top floor of the building, was a large loft apartment fitted with the latest surveillance and communications equipment available. Other, more powerful devices had been retrofitted into the system's network, giving Watchtower the capability of linking seamlessly into any computer system in the world, downloading and assimilating information at incredible speeds.

But Watchtower was not solely a base of operations. It also featured a small kitchen, complete with refrigerator, oven and dishwasher, and there was a hallway leading from the main room to a bath and a spacious bedroom. A sectional had been placed in the center of the room, arranged in a circle so the members could sit and talk with each other.

Eight members of the team, which had taken to calling itself the Justice League in recognition of its inspiration, the original team of the Justice Society of America, were present: Clark Kent, Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, John Jones, Zatanna, Chloe Sullivan, Emil Hamilton, the team's medical supervisor, and Lois Lane. All of them were dressed in civilian clothing. The meeting had not been called to order yet; the members were engaged in idle conversations about their recent activities and the current gossip from around town.

"I don't know how we're ever going to find an apartment in Metropolis," Clark was grumbling to Oliver. "We've been looking for weeks now and nothing we've seen feels right so far."

"There are condos available in this building," Oliver said, a smile quirking his lips. "I'm sure Chloe and I could put a word in for you —"

"Outside our price range," Clark shook his head. "We're reporters, not playboy billionaires."

"Hey, I didn't buy this place, Jimmy did," Oliver protested, referring to Jimmy Olsen, Chloe's previous husband, who had been killed two years ago by Davis Bloome.

"I know that." Clark had never figured out where Jimmy got the money to buy Watchtower; the place must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars even _without_ all of the specialized equipment in it. He shrugged. "Lois and I will figure out something."

"Figure out what?" Lois, who had been talking with Chloe and Zatanna, walked up to Clark, putting an arm around his waist.

"Where to find an apartment," Clark told her. "Oliver suggested we could get a condo in this building." He didn't sound too enthused by the idea.

"Well, it's not far from the _Planet_," Lois said, smiling at the look of dismay that came over Clark's face. "Relax, Clark. We'll find something soon."

"We should start the meeting before Clark's head explodes," Oliver observed, grinning. Everyone gathered in the center of the room. "Chloe?"

Chloe Sullivan Queen, codenamed Watchtower, made a gesture that the interface software recognized as the signal to begin recording the meeting. "I call this meeting of the League to order," she said, her voice brisk but friendly. "Present are Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Zatanna Zatara, Oliver Queen, Chloe Queen, Dinah Lance, John Jones and Dr. Emil Hamilton. We can dispense with the review of the previous meeting, I presume?"

There were nods of assent from the others. Chloe gestured again and a holographic image appeared in the air above them: a histogram of crime statistics from the cities in their sphere of influence. "First item on our agenda is our effect on crime. Metropolis is showing a 4.1 percent drop in violent crimes in the past three months. The three-year average for this quarter is a 1.3 percent rise. Star City, Coast City and Gotham show similar drops."

"Not surprised at Gotham," Oliver remarked. "With the Bat there even _I'd_ be afraid to go out at night."

"Batman is aware of our activities and our costumed personas," John Jones commented. "He would not interfere if you were to prevent a crime while in costume, Oliver."

"Sure," Oliver murmured. He didn't sound convinced of that. "So what are Metropolis's finest saying lately, John?"

John Jones, codenamed the Martian Manhunter, had worked at the Metropolis Police Department for several years now. "Publicly they support our new protector," Jones replied, "but privately there is concern over the presence on Earth of a being with the power Superman seems to possess. Efforts have been initiated to procure samples of kryptonite as a fail-safe contingency should the Man of Steel go rogue."

"That sounds about right," Dinah Lance muttered cynically. Dr. Hamilton shook his head disbelievingly.

"I can't really blame them," Clark said. "If something were to cause me to become unstable or violent I would have to be stopped." He looked around the room. "You should all be prepared to do what you need to do to stop me if it becomes necessary."

"Well _there's_ a cheery thought," Oliver quipped, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll get right to work on a kryptonite arrow." A moment later Chloe caught his eye and silently mouthed, _Shut up, Ollie_.

She turned back to the others. "Several disasters have been averted in the past few weeks. There was a prison break outside Star City that was stopped by Green Arrow and Black Canary. When several levees broke in Coast City due to Hurricane Nellie, Aquaman was able to keep the waters from flooding the city. And there was an earthquake in Panama that threatened to destroy the Canal, but it was saved by Superman."

Arthur Curry wasn't present for the meeting, but Clark, Oliver and Dinah silently nodded acknowledgement, neither expecting or receiving praise for their work. It was what they did, why they were here; to revel in or self-aggrandize their accomplishments would have an insult to all the other heroes who had gone before them.

"Now for the not-so-good news," Chloe said, reluctance in her voice. "There has been a lot of radio and television talk, as well as people texting and tweeting, about the 'Contact Event' — a lot of what they say expresses fear and uncertainty over the existence of aliens on other planets." Clark and John glanced at each other — both of them were aliens from other worlds.

"People will become used to the idea in time," Dr. Hamilton spoke up, offering his opinion. "Right now it is fresh in their minds and associated with negative emotions and global upheaval."

"Some would say — a global apocalypse," Lois added.

"Yes," Hamilton nodded. "No one can deny that many people feel the world will end in a rather dramatic fashion — whether it is from a meteor, or a planet colliding with ours, or the arrival of a celestial being." His eyes flicked momentarily to Clark. "I personally believe one of the former will occur before the latter does."

"Thanks, Emil," Chloe said. "Well, that's all I have for now. Are there any other items the team would like to discuss?"

"I do," Zatanna said, leaning forward and putting her glass of white wine on the table in front of her. "I paid a little visit to Smallville a few weeks ago to check up on its newest inhabitant." She looked at Clark. "Harry Evans."

Lois turned to Clark. "You sent Zatanna to _spy_ on him? What for?"

"Not spy," Clark said defensively. "It was just a feeling I had about him. I wasn't sure why someone would come to live in Smallville just because some stranger suggested it to him on a plane ride."

Lois beamed at him. "Clark Kent, are you jealous?"

"What? No!" Clark quickly denied. "It was just that — well I saw — you see — he was —"

"Spit it out, Smallville," Lois ordered.

"I saw him talking to Luthor," Clark blurted. "I was flying over Kansas and I saw Luthor's car sitting in front of the Talon. When I looked inside I saw them talking."

Chloe was biting her lower lip. "That doesn't sound good at all," she said worriedly.

"Right!" Clark immediately agreed. "I thought we should see what Harry had to say about it, but I didn't want to confront him myself, so I asked Zatanna to have a talk with him." Lois was giving him a disapproving stare.

"Well, I never got around to asking him about Luthor, but it's a good thing Clark did send me," Zatanna said, wryly. "Turns out our friend Harry Evans is a wizard."

"What?" Clark was stunned by that revelation. "You mean he's like _you_?"

"More or less," Zatanna shrugged. "Though he's from wizarding Britain, and most of them are not in the same league as me. Not bragging, just the facts, man."

"Is he a threat?" Jones asked, his voice hard.

Zatanna laughed. "Oh, hardly. He's sort of like the Big Blue Boy Scout here —" she jerked a thumb at Clark, who frowned at the nickname "— was, before he put on his longjohns and starting flying around saving everyone in sight. He's running around at night trying to protect Smallville from all of the crime going on in those means streets." She giggled softly. "It's kind of endearing, really. Too bad he doesn't really know what he's doing."

"Can we train him?" Oliver asked. "Could he be an asset for the League, sort of an advance guard in Smallville if we needed someone there?"

"He has skills," Zatanna said. "He's probably better trained than the average British wizard. And he has a cool invisibility cloak — I couldn't find him with my usual detection magic until he pulled back his hood."

"He shouldn't be told about us just yet," John Jones warned. "We need to know what he and Luthor talked about, what his motivations are."

"Well, unfortunately he discovered the magical detection spells I placed on Luthor's surveillance cameras in his apartment just the other night," Zatanna went on. "He was disabling the cameras and microphones one by one and eventually came across my scyring spells. He disabled everything and put up wards protecting him from magical observation, so he knows somebody's onto him."

"Does he know it was you?" Chloe asked.

"Well, that would be a reasonable deduction," Zatanna replied. "So far I'm probably the only magical he's met. There aren't any other wizards in Smallville. He's also been trying to gather intel on me in various cities in the area — mostly the clubs where I've performed over the past few years."

"Has he been having any luck?" Oliver wondered.

"Some," Zatanna shrugged. "It's no big secret that I perform stage shows around the country. But that won't help him find _me_ — I don't leave anything at any of clubs I work in that could be used to trace me back to a specific location. Even if he knew about Shadowcrest, he could never find it — I have it too well protected for a Brit wizard to ever find it."

"What about this, then," Oliver suggested. "Approach him just before our next meeting and ask what he thinks about working with you. Find out if he's really interested in being a hero or if he's just playing around at it. Report back to us and we'll decide what to do then."

"Can do, chief," Zatanna said, with a jaunty half-salute. "Well, if that's all we have for tonight I have a gig in St. Louis in 15 minutes. See you all later." She vanished.

"I always thought it would be cool to be able to teleport like that," Clark commented to Lois after Zatanna left.

"Says the man that can fly," Oliver deadpanned.

"It's not the same thing at all," Clark pointed out, still being serious.

"Of course it's not," Oliver agreed. "You just zip into the air and zoom across the country in a few seconds. Not the same thing at all."

Dinah and Lois were refilling their coffee cups. "Did you sense anything special about this Harry Evans when you first met him?" Dinah was asking. Lois had told her and Zatanna the story about meeting him on her flight back from London weeks ago.

"Oh, I don't know," Lois shrugged, sipping at her warmed coffee. "At first I thought he was kind of a jerk — he tried to make me get out of the seat I was in on the plane."

"But you were in the wrong seat," Dinah pointed out. "It was really his seat, wasn't it?"

"He could have been a little nicer about it," Lois said shortly, but then shrugged. "Yes, it was my bad, I suppose. And if he _is_ like Zatanna, it might be interesting to know what he thinks of the wizards and sorcerers here in America. I wonder if he'd consent to an interview if I kept his name out of the piece…?"

**=ooo=**

**Author's Notes on Zatanna's Magic: Zatanna is a **_**Homo magi**_**, a human born with the affinity to manipulate magic. In this regard she is similar to Harry and other wizards, both British and worldwide. However, the **_**Homo magi**_** race have a much greater affinity for magic than other wizards. Her unique genetic structure allows her to use natural magic, magic she was born with as well as learned magic. As a tribute to her father, and as a focus, she casts spells by speaking backwards. For example, saying "**_**Pots**_**" would cause the target of the spell to _stop_ in their tracks.**

**Zatanna speaks the entire incantation backwards to focus her magic. Therefore, the spell "Conjure me a margarita!" becomes "**_**Atiragram a em erujnoc**_**!" to evoke her magic.**

** Zatanna is also a skilled stage magician, able to perform feats of prestidigitation and legerdermain. In fact, this was her primary career before learning of her magical heritage and how to use her innate magical powers and abilities.**

** Zatanna is capable of using learned magic such as Harry and other wizards use. She can use a wand just as Harry does. In her magical home, Shadowcrest, she has an extensive library of books and devices that will allow her to do "just about anything you want," as she puts it. These spells and devices allow her to raise the dead, create gold and jewels, and create or transport living beings from other realities or dimensions. **

** Consequently, Zatanna's magic is much more powerful than the learned magic of British witches and wizards. If she and Harry had fought the first time they met, she would have had no trouble defeating him, even with his years of Auror training and experience.**


	5. Finding Harry

**Chapter Five  
****Finding Harry****  
**

_Updated_ 10/19/2013

=ooo=

**A/N: Well, a day later than I planned but hopefully not a dollar short of interesting reading!**

=oo=

It had been nearly an hour since Harry began watching the entrance of Magic Hall, waiting for someone to leave or enter. The Plaza was bustling with people walking back and forth across, going in and out of the stores around the magical nightclub, but no one had entered the club itself. It was the middle of the afternoon, true, but Harry had seen quite a few people inside with his Scyring Mirror — were they all just sitting in there, drinking or eating or doing whatever it was American wizards did when they visited a night club? Maybe he should take a closer look at the place.

Harry stood and moved toward the entrance to Magic Hall, wandlessly casting a detection spell that would lightly touch any magical wards or detectors on the door. He didn't find anything out of the usual — there were Muggle-repelling charms on the door to keep normal people away. The door itself and the front of the club were charmed so that Muggles wouldn't notice it, much like The Leaky Cauldron wasn't visible to Muggles.

Harry drew his wand and cast more detection spells. There were no wards that would activate if he tried to enter without casting a password spell; an encouraging sign that suggested this club wasn't trying to keep out most wizards. There was a corridor behind the entrance leading back to where the club proper began. And no one was behind the entrance — no club employee to collect a cover charge. Maybe there was no cover, Harry guessed, unlike most Muggle clubs which tended to charge just to gain entrance.

But something wasn't right. His deception detectors were warning him of some kind of trickery or subterfuge. Since learning that his apartment had been magically bugged in spite of his precautions, Harry had been paying _very_ close attention to his detection spells.

There was a commotion behind him. Harry turned to see a weedy-looking bloke struggling with a woman over her handbag. The guy snatched the handbag out of the woman's hands, knocking her to the ground and running. Without a moment's hesitation Harry cast a Trip Jinx at the man's legs. The thief fell sprawling; the handbag flew from his grasp, sliding across the ground. The man was immediately up again, running to grab the bag, but Harry cast a Sticking Charm on it, anchoring it to the sidewalk. The thief pulled at it for several seconds, until other people in the gathering crowd began to converge on him; he abandoned the bag and ran away, but not before Harry cast a Locator Charm on him, in case he had an opportunity to follow up the attempted mugging with the fellow.

Other people were helping the woman to her feet, making sure she was okay. One of them was walking over to where her handbag had fallen. Harry canceled the Sticking Charm, allowing the person to return the bag to her. All in all that had gone quite well, he thought; a crime was prevented and no one knew Harry had done it. The only downside was that he'd happened to be in the right place at the right time. It wasn't as if he could predict where a crime could take place.

The door to Magical Hall suddenly opened and Harry just managed to step out of the way before a young woman stepped through it and stopped, looking around at the people milling about nearby. Only a few feet from her, Harry studied the young woman. She was about five-and-a-half feet tall, with blonde hair and, interestingly, green eyes similar to Harry's. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeve top that was barely adequate for the cool weather of late September. She was also a witch, Harry's detectors informed him, so he definitely wanted to talk to her.

She seemed to be assessing the situation, deciding what she should do — leave the scene or assist the woman who had been mugged, who was now standing alone with her handbag, still looking slightly shaken, as if she didn't know what to do next. The strap on her handbag was broken, Harry saw, and there was a scrape on her knee — the only physical indications something had happened to her. The young blonde woman from the club started walking toward her. With his detectors informing him there were no eyes or cameras on him at the moment, Harry quickly slipped his Invisibility Cloak off and put it into his pouch. He followed the blonde girl toward the woman.

"Are you okay?" the blonde asked the woman as she approached her. The woman looked up anxiously, unsure of the blonde woman's intentions. "Why don't we sit down for a minute?" She pointed to the bench where Harry had been sitting only a minute ago. The woman nodded and they both sat down.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked as he approached the bench. "Did you see what happened?" he asked the blonde.

The blonde looked up at Harry. She was very pretty, he saw, though he put aside that thought for the moment. The woman was beginning to tear up as she realized just what had happened to her.

"Someone — someone tried to mug me," she stammered. "In broad daylight! He grabbed my purse. He broke the strap." She held it up for Harry to see. "It was horrible." She drew a shuddering breath. "I c-can't believe something like that happened to me."

"Oh, you poor dear," the blonde said, hugging the woman's shoulder. "Do you want to go sit somewhere, maybe get something to drink until you feel better?"

"I'm — I'm supposed to meet my husband at the Cheesecake Factory for an early dinner," the woman said, looking around as if trying to find the restaurant she'd mentioned. "It's our tenth anniversary."

"Oh, congratulations," the blonde said. She glanced up at Harry, then looked back at the woman. "Well, I used to work at a Cheesecake Factor in Nebraska before I came here. I know where the one in the Plaza is so I can help you find it if you like."

The woman nodded. "Y-Yes, thank you. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to my husband," she added fretfully. "Nothing like this has ever happened to me before."

"It'll be okay," the blonde said soothingly. She glanced up at Harry again; he could tell she was slightly annoyed with him for some reason. "Don't you have somewhere to go?" she asked him a moment later. "I'll take care of her."

"I'm sure you will," Harry said, though privately he doubted this girl really knew what to do to help the woman. He sat down on the bench next to the woman on the opposite side from the blonde. "Let's see if we can fix your strap," he said to the woman.

"I think it's b-broken," the woman said uncertainly, as Harry pressed the strap against the broken fastener.

The blonde looked upset. "You can't fix that," she was saying. "It needs a new —" Harry wasn't paying attention to her, though. Shielding the broken ends of the strap with his hands, he wandlessly and nonverbally cast _Reparo_. The strap instantly mended. He took his hands away, showing the repaired strap. "Oh," the blonde said, surprised. "I guess you _could_ fix it." She was giving Harry a very close look now, as if realizing there was something unusual about him.

Harry ignored that for the moment. "You'd probably like to forget this happened, I suppose," he said to the woman.

"I wish I could," the woman moaned. "This was the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

"I understand," Harry said, inconspicuously drawing his wand from his pocket. He pointed across the woman. "Say — do you see that?"

The woman turned her head, as did the blonde. "See what —?"

"_Obliviate_," Harry whispered, removing the past ten minutes of the woman's memories. The woman swayed for a moment, disoriented as the spell took effect. Harry's wand tapped her skinned knee and he nonverbally cast _Episkey_, healing the scrape. There was now no physical evidence that the woman had been assaulted.

The woman's disorientation passed and she looked back and forth at Harry and the young blonde. "What happened? Who are you?"

"You looked like you were about to faint a minute ago," Harry said before the blonde could answer. "This young lady and I walked you over to this bench so you could sit down. Are you feeling better now?"

"I think so," the woman said, looking down at herself. She glanced at her watch. "Oh, I have to meet my husband in ten minutes! Well, thank you for your help," she said, standing. She looked at the two of them for a moment then walked away.

The blonde was giving him a suspicious look. "What did you do to her? I saw you heal her knee, and you fixed her purse earlier, but you must have done something else, too — she didn't remember what just happened to her."

"I made her forget it," Harry answered. "It wasn't going to do her any good to remember being mugged. Now she'll just think she had a moment of dizziness."

"What are you, some kind of wizard cop?" the blonde asked. "They're the only ones authorized to Memory Charm people."

Harry nodded. "I'm Harry Evans," he said, letting her think that for now. He nodded toward Magical Hall. "I'm involved in an investigation of this club." _Though you don't need to know exactly _why_ I'm investigating it_. "I saw you leave the club and wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Why do you want to talk to me?" the blonde asked. "It is because I work here?" Harry's Legilimency was picking puzzlement and concern; she was worried about losing her job here. "Am I in some kind of trouble?"

"No," he assured her. "This has nothing to do with you directly. I'm investigating someone who's worked here in the past, a magician named Zatanna."

"Oh, I know her," the blonde nodded. "She's got a great show. She's not in trouble, is she?"

"No," Harry said. "I need to ask her some questions about someone she may have worked with in Coast City."

"Well she hasn't been back to the Hall for some time now," the girl said, shrugging. "We've been wondering when she'd be back, too — she left something behind and my boss wanted to give it back to her."

"Really?" Harry was interested to hear that. "What did she leave behind?"

"It wasn't much, really," the blonde replied. "It was just a white carnation. She wore it in her lapel during her act. The funny thing is, it's a real carnation, but it's been almost a year and it hasn't wilted yet. That's kind of cool, you know?"

Harry nodded. "Do you think I could see it?" he asked.

The blonde looked at him uncertainly. "I don't know… my boss doesn't like anyone except employees coming in the back way…"

_So _that's_ what was going on_, Harry realized. This wasn't the main entrance. That was the deception his detectors had found. "It'll only take a second," he suggested. "I might be able to use it to help locate her. It's really important that I find her."

"Well…" the blonde dithered. "I guess if it just takes a second."

"Thanks," Harry said. The blonde stood and walked toward the door to Magic Hall, with Harry following her. As she opened the door he took out his wand; when they stepped inside Harry waved it around his head, casting Disillusionment. He faded from view as the blonde gestured for him to follow her. Halfway down the hall she stopped at a closed door, trying to open it.

"This is where we store lost and found items. Dammit," she muttered. "The door's locked. We can't get in." She looked around in sudden surprise. "Where'd you go?!" she whispered.

"Invisible," Harry said in a low voice. "I don't want your boss to catch me and get you into trouble." He pointed his wand at the door and cast a powerful unlocking charm. "Try the door now."

It opened. The blonde looked surprised but didn't say anything as she went inside, with Harry following. The room was not very big, more like a storage closet, and it had several shelves with boxes marked with labels. The blonde pointed at a small box with the label "Zatanna Zatara" on it. "There it is," she said, pulling it off the shelf and opening it. Inside was a small white carnation, just as she'd said. "See?" she said to Harry. "Not much to go on, is it?"

"Not really," Harry said, but that was just a lie for her benefit. In reality it was a major find for Harry — _if_ he could manage to take the carnation with him. "Can I see it?" he asked, holding out his hand.

The girl hesitated. "I'll be careful," Harry assured her. She carefully placed the carnation in his hand. "Thank you," Harry said, patting her on the arm. She nodded then shuddered slightly. "Are you okay?" Harry asked her, concerned.

"Just — just dizzy for a moment," the girl said, holding her forehead.

"Why don't you sit down for a second," Harry suggested, taking the box from her hands. "Close your eyes and breathe slowly and deeply for a minute — it'll clear your head."

The young blonde nodded. "I think I'll sit down," she said, almost to herself. She sat down, closing her eyes and began to take deep breaths in and out.

While she was doing this Harry put the carnation back in the box, then pointed his wand at the box and silently cast the Doubling Charm. A duplicate box appeared in his hand and he opened it to make sure there was a white carnation inside. He then secreted the original box in his pouch and canceled the Confundus Charm on the girl. She shook her head and looked up at Harry. "Wow. I felt really strange there for a minute. Are you done with that yet?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry said, handing her duplicate box. "I think I'll be able to find Zatanna now. We'd better get out of here before we're noticed." The blonde nodded and put the box back on the shelf. They went back into the hallway, where Harry locked the door again, and snuck out through the back entrance.

Once back in the Plaza, Harry nodded to the girl. "Thanks for your help," he said. "I should be —"

"Hold on a second," the blonde put a hand on his shoulder. "I want to find Zatanna, too."

"What for?" Harry wondered. This girl was a witch; Harry's detectors told him so, but so far he hadn't seen her do one bit of magic. What could she want with someone like Zatanna?

"Look," the girl said, almost pleadingly. "I came to Metropolis a year ago hoping to break into show business. When I saw Zatanna perform I knew I wanted to be a magician like her. I've been hoping she'd come back to Magic Hall so I could ask to be her assistant, learn to do what she does. If you can find her, you can make that happen for me."

Harry stared at her a long moment. The girl was being entirely honest, as far as wanting to find Zatanna — but there was something else she wasn't saying. Whatever it was, Harry was pretty sure he didn't want some untrained witch riding his coattails. But he wouldn't feel right denying her request after she'd just helped him…

"Right, then," Harry said. "How about we go somewhere and talk it over?"

The blonde nodded, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "I know a cute little bar a few blocks away we could go to. What do you say?"

"I'd say, lead on, er —" he stared at her a moment. "You know, you've never told me what your name is."

"You've never asked," the girl said, smiling at him. "It's Penny."

=ooo=

Nearly four hours later and they'd never even made it to the bar; no, things were much worse than that.

She'd invited him back to her apartment.

It had seemed relatively innocuous at first, perhaps because Penny did not radiate deception or untrustworthiness. She had no plan in mind; whatever she did or said was spontaneous. As they were getting close to the bar she mentioned, she pointed to a nearby liquor store and suggested buying a couple of bottles of wine instead of going in the bar. "We won't have to worry about being 'normal' around everybody," she'd said. Harry had agreed, even though she still hadn't performed one bit of real magic that he could detect.

In her apartment both the wine and every facet of her life for the past year flowed like water; they'd bought a bottle of red and a bottle of white, and after the first glass of white Harry kept his glass full by surreptitiously refilling it using _Aguamenti_, to keep his wits about him. Penny very quickly killed most of the bottle of red, but Harry kept it from going empty by using the Refilling Charm.

Penny was an aspiring actress paying the bills with a serving job at Magic Hall. She was single, 22 and not really looking for a man in her life right now, though she did say she felt lonely sometimes. She'd grown up in Nebraska, the state north of Kansas, on a farm in a small town outside Omaha. A year ago, as she'd told him earlier, she left the farm and struck out for the big city — in her case Metropolis — for fame and fortune.

Things had not worked out the way she'd expected them to, however. She still hadn't gotten an acting gig in all that time, and she'd been to dozens of auditions and casting calls. Some of her coworkers had suggested she use her magic to "get ahead of the game" as they put it, but she wanted to get a part based on her acting skills, not her magic. When Harry asked where she went to magic school, she looked embarrassed. She'd gone to a small, private school in Omaha, she'd said, but the tuition was too much for her parents and her to afford. She'd only had about a year of training before she had to drop out. When she got a good-paying acting job, she said, she planned to go to the magic school in Metropolis and get her M.E.D. — her Magical Equivalency Degree, she explained.

It was hard to meet sorcerers in Metropolis if you weren't very good at magic, Penny went on, the wine emboldening her tongue. Men liked witches who were self-sufficient magically, she informed Harry. She also alluded to some sex acts that were enhanced when you knew the right magic. Another reason to get her M.E.D. — for now she dated mostly normal guys, athletic ones with a lot of staying power, she added with a smile, if Harry got her drift, although she had gone on a date with the guy who lived across the hall from her, Leonard, who was some kind of brainiac that worked at a special research facility in Metropolis. Leonard was cute and kind of fun, Penny admitted, but not her usual cup of tea.

Harry got her talking about everyday life in magical America. It wasn't so very different from wizarding Britain; the biggest difference was that, while the

Secrecy Statutes the International Confederations of Wizards had enacted in 1689 were still binding on Americans, even though America as a nation wasn't established until almost a hundred years later (Harry already knew all this, of course) the American Department of Magic didn't place as much emphasis on its adherence as the British Ministry did. The problem with being a witch or sorcerer (the American term for wizard) was that anyone who seemed to have any kind of extra "ability" had been targeted for a while by the Vigilante Registration Act, a law that had finally been overturned only a year ago, just after Penny left Nebraska.

Magic Hall, it turned out, was typical of a nightclub catering only to witches and sorcerers. The entrance Harry had seen was the old entrance to Club Metro, a "stealth" or underground Muggle nightclub that had closed down some years earlier. When it was leased as a magical club the new owners had made it the employee entrance. The main entrance was blocks away, not in the Plaza at all, in a public restroom. If you went into one of the stalls, there was a picture on the inside of the door that only sorcerers or witches could see, Penny told him. Then you could Teleport (the word Americans used instead of Apparate) into the club's entrance area. The rest of the club was protected by an Anti-Teleport spell. Once you were past the entrance, you were in. There were from 20 to 200 patrons in the club at any given time, there to drink, mingle or watch the shows management arranged every weekend or so. Zatanna's last show, Penny remembered, had used a combination of stage and real magic, it had been quite entertaining.

"Now," she said, beginning to slur her words a bit, "I wanna find Zatanna and learn how to do all that stuff from her. 'Learned from the rest, now for the best,' that's my motto." She smiled coyly at Harry. "What do you think the two of us could learn together?"

"That's an interesting question," Harry said, though he had no intention of doing anything more than sharing a drink with her. "What would you like to learn?"

"Oh, maybe you could show me how you handle your wand?" Penny suggested, walking over and sitting in Harry's lap. S_he's certainly randy when she's had a bit_, Harry thought. She leaned her head against his, still sipping on her 9th glass of wine. Harry had to admit, she held her drinks better than some men he knew. "What do you think?" she asked, smiling suggestively.

"I think we should go find out," Harry said, wondering what she'd do if he called her bluff. He put an arm around her waist and stood, then began steering her toward her bedroom.

"Ohh-kaay," she drawled, rubbing against him. Not the reaction he'd hoped for, but he wasn't going to succumb to her charms just because she seemed a bit dewy-eyed over him. For one thing, she was completely pissed and probably wouldn't even remember him in the morning. He was still married, he reminded himself, but that was pretty much in name only now. Still, if he didn't do anything, no one could make him reveal any embarrassing details under Veritaserum, if it ever came to that.

He half-walked, half-carried her into her bedroom, then put her between him and her bed. "Come on, Harry," she said dreamily, hands around his neck. "You're almost there. Don't disappoint me."

Harry smiled, then started as she impulsively leaned forward and kissed him. She was pressing her body shamelessly against his, but she began to sag as the Sleep Charm Harry wandlessly cast began to take effect on her. She was already snoring softly as Harry laid her on her bed, covering her with a quilt he found crumpled in a corner of the room. He hadn't used the Bewitched Sleep Charm; she had fallen into a normal sleep and would wake up hours later, after the alcohol was out of her system.

He stood there a moment watching her, wondering if he should perform a Memory Charm to make sure she'd forget about him entirely. He really should, he told himself — he didn't want to have to deal with her again while he was looking for Zatanna.

On the other hand, the chances of her finding him again after tonight were minimal; even if she did remember him, she had no idea where who Harry Evans was or where to find him. And Memory Charms weren't something wizards should cast on each other if they could avoid it. "Good night," Harry said softly, headed for the door.

As he was about to leave her apartment there was still a slight tingle from his detectors. Someone else knew he was here. For a moment he thought Zatanna might have found him already, but his pouch protected everything inside it from all but the most powerful detection magic. Besides that, the tingle he'd felt was from magical scyring or detection — it was more like someone had been listening at the door.

Harry left the apartment. There was another apartment across the hall, where a black-haired, bespectacled young man was pretending to ignore Harry as he fumbled with the key to his apartment. Harry walked past the non-functioning elevator toward the staircase, pretending to ignore the young man as well. But he stopped on the top step, turned and asked, "Are you Leonard?"

Leonard jerked, startled by the question. He looked uncertainly at Harry. "Um, yes," he said, in a small, worried voice, as if Harry merely looking at him was intimidating. "How — how did you know?" he asked, glancing toward Penny's door.

"I was just talking with your friend Penny," Harry said, stepping toward Leonard and offering his hand. "I'm Harry," he said.

"Hi," Leonard said, shaking Harry's hand for only a moment before he let go. "I'm Leonard. But you already knew that, so —" Leonard was certainly flustered to see him, Harry realized, especially for a guy who'd had only one date with the girl whose apartment Harry had just walked out of. "How, um — how — how — do you know — er, know Penny?" he asked, stammering.

"Oh, we met tonight where she works," Harry said casually.

"Oh," Leonard said, looking interested. "And where — where was that, exactly?"

_He doesn't know where Penny works_, Harry realized. Leonard wasn't a wizard, Harry's detectors had informed him; Penny probably couldn't tell him where she worked because he couldn't get into the place. Harry didn't want to blow whatever cover story Penny was using, so he used his Legilimency to get an impression from Leonard. He was thinking about Penny being a server at the Cheesecake Factory. "At the Cheesecake Factory," Harry said. "I walked her home."

Leonard smiled, but that last bit of information had upset him, Harry could tell. "Well," Leonard said, covering his displeasure, "that — that was very thoughtful of you."

"I thought I should," Harry continued matter-of-factly. "She wanted to stop for a drink or two at a bar on her way home. I made sure she made it back to her apartment. She's over there asleep right now. You know, she talked quite a bit about you." Which wasn't exactly true; she'd mentioned dating a guy named Leonard who lived across the hall from her, who was cute and fun but not a sorcerer.

"She did?" Leonard genuinely smiled for the first time since meeting Harry.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Well, I've gotta run. See you around, Leonard."

Harry headed down the stairs, leaving Leonard smiling to himself. On the third floor landing he turned on his heel, Apparating directly into the hidden room of his apartment. He had some scyring to do.

=ooo=

Ron landed with the practiced ease of an Auror who has made hundreds of Portkey trips. His detectors weren't going off so he was alone. He was in a park of some sort, though it was still after sundown and no lights were on in the park. He glanced down at his watch to ascertain the time, then frowned as he saw what it was doing.

It was a dial watch, bog-standard in appearance so Muggles wouldn't be suspicious of it, but it had been enchanted to maintain the right time for the time zone it was in. Now it was acting crazy. The hands were spinning madly, running the time backward three hours, then four — now a total of _six_ hours back in time, until it was just after eight p.m. When he'd left home it was only a little after two a.m.

Oh. Of course. The Portkey had dropped him in the middle of the United States, which was six hours behind Great Britain time. When he went to France or Germany on Auror business his watch jumped forward an hour, then back when he returned to Britain. But he'd never been far enough from Britain for it to change so much.

Ron turned, looking around the park. There was a small white building nearby; he activated Supersensory so he could read the sign above the door. It read, "U.S. CENTER CHAPEL." Nearby was a larger historical marker that read,

GEOGRAPHIC CENTER OF THE U.S.

You are now in the exact center of the United States.  
On a farm three miles north is the official location .  
established by the U.S. Geological Survey. It is the .  
point where a plane map of the nation would balance  
if it were of uniform thickness. .

Below was a map of the United States with certain cities on it and the miles from the geographical center to those cities. Vaguely interesting, Ron thought, but hardly worth all of this trouble. Nothing else was around except a stone monument with the American flag flying atop it on a flagpole.

But he was wasting time. Ron took out his wand and repeated the spell Hermione had used: "_Comperius Harry's pouch_!" The wand turned slowly and Ron turned with it, waiting for it to stop. It turned slowly left, spinning him almost all the way around before it stopped, then began to turn right. It repeated this two more times before Ron stopped the spell, frustrated. Why hadn't it worked for him?

He had to talk to Hermione right _now_. Ron pushed back his frustration and concentrated on happier thoughts: his time with his children and wife; seeing his mother smiling at her grandchildren, and cast the Patronus Charm: "_Expecto Patronum_!"

A small silver dog burst from the tip of his wand and landed on the ground in front of him, wagging its tail at him. "Go tell Hermione I can't find Harry, the spell doesn't work. Then come back to me."

The silver dog barked once then turned and bounded away, disappearing a moment later. Ron waited impatiently for what seemed like minutes but was only a few seconds. A silver otter appeared in front of him, sitting up on its hind legs as it spoke in Hermione's voice. "Try again, Ron. I'll do the same here and report the results." The otter disappeared, replaced a moment later by his own Patronus as it reappeared before him.

Ron held his wand out and repeated the spell once more. His wand spun slowly in one direction, then the other, just like before. "It's the same as before," he snapped at his Patronus. "I'm getting nothing! Go tell her!" The dog disappeared again.

A few seconds later the otter was back. "I'm getting the same here. Oh Ron, do you think he figured out he was being traced and canceled the spell?" It disappeared again.

_I don't know_, Ron thought. He wondered if Harry could even break one of Hermione's spells, but that was ridiculous — Harry's magic was a lot more powerful now than it had been 13 years ago.

A sudden tingle from his detectors told Ron he wasn't alone, but even as he turned around to face the direction his detectors were pointing in, he knew it was too late to Disapparate. The detectors should have warned him earlier, but he was distracted with talking to his wife.

"What the hell are you doing?" a uniformed Muggle was approaching, shining the beam from a flashlight he was carrying on Ron. "What's going on with all those funny-looking lights?"

_Dammit_, Ron thought. _This is a distraction I _don't_ need_. "Sorry, officer," he said aloud, pretending to be embarrassed. "Sorry — I was just — just shooting off a few fireworks." It was the only thing that came to mind.

"Fireworks?" the officer said, disbelievingly. "Are you kidding? Hell, it's almost October! And you shouldn't be shooting off fireworks around here anyway — don't you know how easy it is to catch crops on fire? You could burn out a whole season's crop!"

"Sorry," Ron said again.

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it," the officer said, taking out a pair of handcuffs. "You're going to have to come in tonight. Turn around and place your hands behind you." Ron sighed and did as he was told, still trying to figure out what to do about the failed locator spell. If Harry had removed the spell from his pouch finding him would be like Transfiguring a needle in a haystak.

"Watch your head," the officer said as he put Ron into the back seat of his patrol car. Well, he would stay in America for a while — no use running right back home until he'd tried to locate Harry a few more times. He might just be inside some protected region where the locator spell couldn't reach.

Now, as for the handcuffs….

His wand was in his pocket but he didn't need it for simple magic like this. Touching the handcuffs with his fingertips he cast an Unlocking Charm. The cuffs slipped off his wrists. Now came the hard part —

He concentrated on the stretch of road they were passing by, then made a deliberate twisting motion with his body. With a soft _crack_ the back seat of the police car was suddenly empty. "Simmer down back there," the officer muttered, then glanced in his rear-view mirror and jammed on the breaks. "What the hell?!" He leaned over the seat looking for his prisoner, who was inexplicably missing from his patrol car. He jumped out of the vehicle, looking around in confusion. The man he'd cuffed and was transporting back to the station was nowhere to be seen. "Son of a bitch!" He jumped back in the car, quickly turned it around, and sped back toward the historical marker where he'd first seen the perp. That was the only place he could be now!

Watching invisibly from the side of the road, Ron waved at the police car as it zoomed past him. Now that he knew which way the cop was going, he was headed in the other direction. He had no idea what he'd find in that direction, so he had to Apparate only as far as he could see. But if the cop had been going that way, there must be _something_ in that direction…

=ooo=

Ron Apparated east until the road he was on ended at a T-intersection. He looked one way then the other; there didn't seem to be much of anything in either direction. There were a couple of signs across the road from him that he assumed had some meaning for people who traveled these roads more often: one sign was a white shield with the number 281 in it; the other sign said 191 end.

So which way to go? There was no use guessing. Ron took out his wand again and cast Homenum Revelio in both directions. The road to the right showed more humans in that direction, so Ron started off that way, still Disillusioned.

This place looked a lot like the West Country, Ron decided after a few Apparations had not changed the look of the land much at all. Fields of grain and corn, rows of trees to break the wind, and very little else. Ron hadn't even seen a single house yet; there were some old structures that might have been barns or some other kind of storage, but he wasn't in a curious mood at the moment.

Eventually signs of life beyond mere flora began to appear. There were houses scattered along side streets, and he saw what looked like a petrol station and a store ahead. He could probably ask for directions to a restaurant there — worst case, he could probably buy something to eat there if he had to.

Ron stopped in his tracks, grimacing. Damn! Of course he didn't have any American money in his pouch! He should have thought of that before he left Britain! What was even more annoying was that Hermione should have thought of it too! So now what could he do?

Actually there was a pretty simple solution, especially near a shopping area. Ron drew his wand and pointed it at the parking area. _Accio Muggle money_, he thought, holding out his other hand. He felt several small objects fly into his open palm. He dropped the coins in his pocket then held out his hand again, pointing in a different direction, repeating the spell. After a half-dozen repetitions of the Summoning Charm he pulled all the coins in his pocket out to examine them.

American Muggle coins were a bit plainer than their British counterparts. Only the one-cent coin was copper-colored in America; the rest were silver, unlike British Muggle coins which were different colors. At least the Americans used the same system as the British, one hundred pennies to the pound, although in America it was called a "dollar" instead. Ron added up what he'd collected: three quarter dollars, six five-cents coins, four smaller coins that said "one dime" on the back, though Ron wasn't sure how much a "dime" was, and 23 one-cent coins. There was also another coin, a gold one that had "$1" on the back side and an image of a woman and child on the front. Adding these up and not counting the "dimes" Ron had $2.28. Since the dimes were smaller than the five-cent coins Ron assumed they were two-cent coins — the "di" in "dime" probably meant "two." If that was true he had a total of $2.36. That should buy him something to eat.

Of course, Ron told himself, if he needed more he could just cast the Doubling Charm on these coins a few times. It wasn't like they were _real_ money, like Galleons, Sickles and Knuts, which were made by goblins and couldn't be multiplied without invoking the Flagrante Curse on the duplicates.

On the other hand, if he did that he'd be breaking the law by counterfeiting money, which was obviously something an Auror shouldn't do! Ron decided to try to get by on the money he'd "found" without crossing a line into unlawful behavior. He dropped the coins back into his pocket, canceled the Disillusionment charm on himself, then put his wand away and walked into the convenience store.

The place had a funny smell, Ron noticed straightaway — a combination of petrol, bleach, and some kind of meat, which by itself would have made Ron's mouth water, but not with the other smells mixed in. The person behind the counter was a middle-aged lady who looked him over for a few seconds before smiling a fake smile and saying, "Hello," to him.

"Hi," Ron said, looking around the store. There were rows of sweets and pastries, a few staple items like loaves of bread and canned meats. Not very appetizing at the moment. He turned back to the clerk. "Do you have any, um, _hot_ food?" he asked.

The lady pointed to a brightly-lit machine on the counter nearby with the words "HOT DOGS" printed on it. There was a little Ferris wheel thing inside it, with foot-long hot dogs going slowly around and around. Fascinated, Ron moved slowly toward the strange device; he could feel warmth coming from the machine as he neared it. He also discovered it was the source of the meat smell. Nearby was a warmer that had coney rolls in it. "How much for one?" Ron asked the lady.

"A dollar ninety-nine," the lady said.

Ron looked back at the hot dogs. He only had a little over two dollars; at that price he could buy only one. But it sure smelled good…

"I'll take one," Ron said, making up his mind. The lady nodded and walked over to the machine, taking a coney from the warmer with a paper napkin and putting it into a small paper tray. She stopped the hot dog wheel and took one out with a pair of tongs, then set it on the counter in front of Ron. That'll be $2.14."

"I thought it was $1.99," Ron said, perplexed.

The lady gave him a funny look. "Plus sales tax," she said, like Ron should have known that.

"Oh," Ron said. "Er, okay." He pulled the Muggle American coins out of his pocket and dropped them on the counter. "Let's see…"

It took over a minute to get two dollars and 14 cents sorted out of the coins. Ron thought the lady would get annoyed but she seemed used to people counting out change on her counter. Ron scooped the last few coins off the counter into his hand and dropped them in his pocket.

"Something to drink?" the woman suggested.

"No thanks," Ron replied. "I've got my own." He took the hot dog to a condiment stand and put some mustard and some ketchup on the hot dog. There were a couple of booths along one side of the store where people could sit and eat. Ron walked over and sat down in one, his back to the lady. He pulled a glass out of his pouch, then took out his wand and silently cast _Aguamenti_, filling it with water. He immediately drank down half the glass, getting the taste of road dust out of his mouth, then refilled the glass.

If this wasn't a Muggle shop he would have cast the Doubling Charm on the hot dog, letting him eat twice as much. It had been less than an hour since he'd eaten at Mum's house with Hermione, Ginny, his kids and Harry's kids, but there was something about eating hamburgers and hot dogs that brought out the foodie in him. He picked up the hot dog and took a slow bite, savoring the taste. It was too good not to have another one, he decided. His Supersensory charm was still active so without turning he glanced back at the clerk. She was reading a magazine now, not even paying attention to him. Good. He pointed his wand at the hot dog and cast _Gemino_; another hot dog, complete with a bite missing from it, appeared next to the first. Ron smiled happily and picked up the dog that had just appeared.

Before he could bite into it, however, the roar of an automobile engine diverted his attention. It was a police officer in his vehicle, the same one that tried to arrest Ron earlier! "Merlin's balls," he muttered under his breath. He quickly Vanished the water in his glass, then shoved it back into his pouch. He slid out of the booth and looked at the clerk. "Do you have a toilet I can use?" he asked.

She looked at him, then at the policeman getting out of his patrol car, and pointed to the back of the store. "Thanks," Ron said, grabbing the hot dogs off the table and walking quickly toward the back of the store. The rest rooms were down a short corridor, and there was another door nearby marked "EXIT," but Ron figured it was locked. Not that it could stop him, but let the Muggles try to figure out what happened. He walked up to the door, listening for the sound of the front door opening before he Apparated away, back to the park where he'd first appeared. What a bloody bother this was turning out to be!

Deciding to try Harry again, Ron held out his wand and recast the Locator Charm. And once again his wand just turned slowly in his hand, pointing nowhere. He sighed and conjured a chair and a little table to put his hot dogs on. Maybe he could finish his meal before the cop showed up there again. Harry had better have a damn good reason for not being where the locator charm could find him!

=ooo=

Inside the secret room of his apartment, Harry quickly set to work putting Zatanna's carnation to good use. He didn't want to spend time brewing more Scyring Potion, even though it made the Scyring Glass easier to use. The flower would be enough, however; he would be able to locate Zatanna or places where she had spent time. If she spent much time in Shadowcrest he should be able to find it.

Harry held the carnation in one hand, then pointed his wand at it. _"Reserare locis occulta Zatanna!"_ he intoned, letting go of the flower as he finished the spell. It remained in mid-air, floating between him and the Scyring Glass. The carnation began to glow, and the light that shone on the Scrying Glass began to form images, reflections of places where it and Zatanna had been.

The images shifted in and out of view; the larger the image, the more closely it was associated with Zatanna. Foremost in these images was a large mansion of stone carved with ornate magical runes and symbols, surrounded by a wooded estate. Harry smiled in elation — this was exactly what he wanted to find!

But there were warning tingles and buzzes from his detection spells. This place was _heavily_ fortified with powerful wards and protection magic. As with most magical places, it was invisible to Muggles; they wouldn't even be able to approach it because of the protection charms. Its location was also vague, as if it could suddenly disappear and reappear in another place entirely. _That_ was impressive magic. Without amping up the power of the scyring spell he couldn't pin its location down any more precisely than somewhere near Gotham City, but for the moment he didn't need to know _where_ it was so much as if and how he could get inside it.

But to get inside it, he would have to defeat Shadowcrest's protection magic, and to do that he had to go there and sense the wards and protections directly. He returned the carnation to the box it had come from and placed it back in his pouch, at the same time removing and donning his Invisibility Cloak, then turned on his heel and vanished, headed to Gotham City.

He arrived in a dark alley, invisible and silent. Still beneath the Cloak, he took a small mirror from his pouch, a portable version of his Scyring Glass. "_Locanus dominum Zatanna_!" he incanted, staring intently into the mirror, then slowly turned in place. As he turned, the mirror began to glow with arcane light. It was brightest as he faced northeast. "_Ostendi Shadowcrest_!" Harry said, and a wavering image of the mansion began to appear in the mirror. He had its location now. He Disapparated again.

He appeared in a housing development northeast of Gotham. Looking around from beneath his Cloak, Harry could see several homes in various states of construction. They were all large and expensive-looking; this was evidently a high-end housing area. But one lot stood vacant and completely undeveloped, and it was this lot he was most interested in. This is where Shadowcrest stood, invisible and undetectable to the Muggles working in the area.

Even many wizards would not be able to see the mansion because of the protections Zatanna had placed on it. Being an Auror gave Harry an advantage; he had been trained in spells that most wizards never heard of, much less could cast properly.

Shadowcrest was heavily protected, but none of the wards and protections were lethal if tripped; an indication that Zatanna had no malicious intent, even toward her enemies. Harry set about probing the nature of the spells guarding the place. He did this as passively as possible for now — he did not want to risk tripping a spell prematurely. If possible, he would avoid doing anything to cancel or break any of the spells guarding the estate — he wanted to get inside without Zatanna knowing he'd done so!

There were layers of magic surrounding Shadowcrest, all of them working to give the maximum protection possible. The simplest ones simply prevented non-magicals from seeing or sending there was anything here at all; Muggles could walk around the lot as if nothing were there — they might even think they could walk right through the middle of the lot, though the magic would actually direct them around it.

To find out more about the magic protecting the estate, Harry had to expose himself. While beneath the Cloak he was completely protected, but it also preventing him from learning more about the wards protecting Shadowcrest. He reached forward, moving one hand outside the folds of the Invisibility Cloak, and moved slowly forward.

Harry had seen Dumbledore do this many years ago: he had found the secret entrance to Voldemort's hidden cave just by looking and touching, not by casting charms or detection spells. At the time Harry had marveled at what the Headmaster was able to accomplish by touch and sight alone, but since then he had become quite accomplished at it himself. There was a reason why prospective Aurors had been expected to obtain no less than five N.E.W.T.s with a grade of "Exceeds" or better — that was just the beginning of what they needed to learn to be effective at their job. Harry had become an Auror with none of the prerequisite skills, but he and Ron had been very special cases. Afterwards, with Ron and Hermione's help, Harry had gone through the Auror Training courses on his own, mastering them over time, until he was able to request an evaluation from the Head Auror at the time, Gawain Robards.

Harry had passed the tests with one of the best overall scores that had ever been recorded at that time. In two years' time, when Robards decided to leave the Auror Office, he nominated Harry as his successor. The Wizengamot agreed, and in 2007 Harry had become Head Auror.

The magic Harry sensed from Shadowcrest was strong but not very complicated. There was nothing like a Fidelius Charm; fortunately, for it would have been much more difficult to find the place had there been one. As Harry moved slowly around the perimeter of the magical protections, he noticed something else: this magic did not "feel" like Zatanna. It was similar, but not the same as he had sensed from her at their first meeting. Someone else may have created these protections and passed them on to Zatanna at some time, or she had been keyed into them when they were originally created. Either way, Zatanna's connection to the magic guarding Shadowcrest would be weaker than if she had cast the spells herself.

Harry couldn't break the magical protection of this place, nor would he want to. If he did he would leave the estate unprotected. Getting inside, however, was still possible.

He would simply walk up to the front door and knock.

Once more completely inside the Cloak, Harry made his way up the marble steps at the front of the mansion to the columned porch and the large double oaken doors that were decorated with more runes and glyphs he's seen on the other walls of the mansion. He looked over the runes carefully; there didn't seem to be any warnings or other messages in them.

Still beneath the Cloak, he reached out and knocked three times on the door. Nothing happened for several moments. Then one of the knockers on the door began to _change_. It formed a semi-human face, the image of a gargoyle, and spoke.

_Who would enter Shadowcrest,  
__Must answer me these question three,  
__Ere the other side he see.__  
_

Harry smiled. He recognized the form of that rhyme. Was Zatanna a fan of Monty Python, or perhaps it was whoever cast the original protections on this place. "Ask me the questions, I am not afraid," he answered, keeping in the mood.

"_What_ is your name?"

"Harry Evans."

There was a flash of light and a sudden jolt, and Harry found himself standing in his apartment. He shook his head at the sudden disorientation, then looked around to make sure of where he was. Yes, he been magically transported back to his home in Smallville. "Bloody hell," Harry breathed, borrowing Ron's favorite epithet. He turned on his heel, reappearing moments later at the steps of Shadowcrest. "Let's try that again, shall we?"

He approached the door once again and knocked three more times. After the gargoyles head reappeared and the rhyming challenge was given one again he said, "Ask your questions."

"_What_ is your name?"

"Harry Potter," Harry said, this time answering completely honestly.

"_What_ do you seek?"

"I wish to enter Shadowcrest," Harry replied.

"_What_ is Zatanna's father's name?"

Harry blinked. He had no idea. A smart reply entered his mind and before he could contain himself he quipped, "Carlos Zatanna?"

_Pop_. _Whoosh_. And he was back in his apartment once again.

"Crap," Harry swore. He pushed back the hood of the Invisibility Cloak. He was going to have to find out the answer to that question before he went back to Shadowcrest, assuming the door's guardian asked him the same question the next time. The only clue he had at the moment was Zatanna's (presumed) last name — Zatara. That name was vaguely familiar in a different context but at the moment he couldn't place it.

Well, if he was going to figure out what her father's name was, Harry figured, he would have to start investigating him as well. And the best place to start, he decided, was where he'd gotten the information that had led him to Shadowcrest in the first place.

Back to Magic Hall. Pulling the hood back over his head, Harry turned on his heel and Disapparated.

=ooo=

Ron Vanished the two cardboard trays that had held the hot dogs he'd just finished off and stood up, taking out his wand. It was very dark by now, time to try the Location spell to find Harry. He cast the spell, then watched with elation as his wand spun toward the east and stopped. Found him!

He picked up the glass of water from the table he'd conjured and gulped it down, clearing his mouth and throat of any remaining hot dog bits. The glass went back into his pouch, and he Vanished the table and chair.

He took a deep breath, calming himself and preparing to cast the Patronus Charm. He could send his Patronus directly to Harry with a request for him to remain where he was so Ron could Apparate to him. Thinking happy thoughts now…

"_Expecto Patronum_!" The silver Jack Russell terrier emerged from his wand, landing in front of him with an expectant gaze on it features. "Go to Harry Potter," Ron told it. "Tell him to wait for me wherever he is, that I'll be with him shortly. Tell him we need to talk. Now off you go."

The Patronus barked and turned, disappearing as it did so. Ron slumped a bit, tired but happy that his search was about to come to an end.

A moment later, however, the Jack Russell reappeared and gave Ron a hangdog look, shaking its head.

"What d'you mean?" Ron said, annoyed. "He can't have disappeared again _already_!" He held out his wand and said the Location spell again. This time the wand spun slowly without stopping.

"_Dammit_!" Ron growled. "Where the bloody hell has he got off to _now_?" There couldn't be _that_ many place Harry could go that could shield him from this location spell, could there? What could be hiding him —

Ah, bloody hell! Ron realized that Harry's own Invisibility Cloak, when worn, would protect him from that or any other kind of scyring charm, even the one hidden in his pouch! But why would Harry be wearing his Invisibility Cloak here in America? Ron shook his head, wondering what kind of mischief Harry was getting up to now. He was going to have to keep casting the Location spell until it told him where Harry was, then immediately send his Patronus to locate Harry so he could get to him.

Ron sighed and conjured another chair, a lounger this time, so he could rest in relative comfort as he maintained his Patronus at the ready while he waited for Harry to show himself once again. _This had better not take long, Harry_, he thought to himself as he settled down in the chair. _I don't want to spend the entire bloody night trying to find you_!


	6. Together Again

**Chapter Six  
****Together Again**

_Updated_ 11/2/2013

**=ooo=**

Harry Apparated just outside the Plaza, arriving next to the public toilets that were the hidden entrance to Club Magic Hall. He slipped out of his Cloak and put it in his mokeskin pouch, then entered the men's restroom.

The place was empty. And no wonder, either — he could feel a fairly powerful Muggle-Repelling Charm on the place. Anyone who wasn't a wizard (or didn't have to go very badly) would want to leave this place as soon as possible. As if to reinforce that, a moment later a gentleman walked into the restroom, looked around nervously, then turned and left.

Harry moved slowly along the stalls, feeling for the one that was the entrance to Magic Hall. At the third stall his detectors indicated the presence of something invisible to Muggles. He entered the stall and looked around. The wall behind the toilet seat was the source of the magic he had detected. As Harry concentrated on the wall, a poster appeared, an advertisement for Club Magic Hall showing an empty room facing a doorway. The view of the room panned 360 degrees, showing posters on the walls with entertainers performing their acts: singers, comedians, even a stage magician in a top hat and tails. As Harry watched, a man entered through the door in the picture, then made a gesture toward Harry as if inviting him in. Harry understood: the advert was showing him the room to visualize and Apparate (or _teleport_; the American term, he had learned) to if he wished to enter the Club.

Harry had his game plan in mind now: he would enter the club, look around a bit, then locate the manager or owner and find out what he or she knew about Zatanna and her father. If he found what he needed to know he'd head straight to Shadowcrest and attempt to get inside again. Failing that, he hoped to get a lead to someone or some other place where he could find out anything about Zatanna's father.

Slipping out of the Invisibility Cloak, Harry secured it in his pouch. He did a pit check, deciding he needed a quick spiffing up, and used his wand to cast _Feberus_, a powerful cleaning and deodorizing charm on his clothing. With that done, he ran his hand through his hair, trying to make it look less messy, then concentrated on the destination in the picture and Apparated.

He appeared in a dimly-lit room filled with comfortable chairs and couches, low tables in front of them with half-finished drinks still setting on them. The people occupying the chairs and couches glanced up at him, but quickly lost interest. Along the wall he could see the posters that had been in the picture in the restroom; even though they were moving, they looked rather old-fashioned — the entertainers were from 70 or 80 years ago. Harry might have believed they were from the place's Club Metro days if the images weren't moving. There was no sound: the singer was belting out a heartfelt tune, though neither music nor voice could be heard, and the dark-haired and goateed magician smiled mysteriously at the audience as he pulled a rabbit from his hat. It was all very quaint, Harry decided.

Except for the décor, which was much more art deco, the place reminded him of the Atrium at the Ministry, where all arrivals and departures took place. It was a sound idea, of course — you didn't want to give access for your entire establishment to people capable of doing strange and perhaps unpredictable things. And witches and wizards (okay, _sorcerers_, he reminded himself) filled with alcohol were more than capable of doing wild and crazy shit. Harry's detectors indicated there were several charms in place in this room to calm down anyone who entered, make them think a bit before they acted on whatever impulse or desire had brought them here. Not that those charms had much effect on Harry, who was already calm and acting quite analytically.

Ahead of him was the entrance to the club proper, with a rather tall fellow in a black T-shirt with the word "SECURITY" written across it. He walked up to the guy, nodded (the bloke just stared back at him) and said, "I'd like to get into the club, please."

The security guy was giving him a neutral look. "First time in the club?" he asked in a rumbling voice.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I just heard about —"

"There's a one-time 20-dollar cover," Security said shortly, holding out a hand.

Harry stared at the guy a long moment, then reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He peeled off two twenties. "Here you go, pal. You can use that tip to buy yourself a more interesting personality."

The guy snorted but tapped the door with a wand that had suddenly appeared in his hand. "Have a nice time, Shorty."

Harry smiled mirthlessly at the security guy as he stepped past him. Even after all these years he didn't like it when people made fun of his height, but he'd hardly give anyone the satisfaction of letting them see he was upset about it. He was already regretting that he'd given the bloke an extra twenty to impress him.

Magic Hall was bigger than he'd expected, though he hadn't been in this area in person before, only the employee entrance and hallway, along with that storage room where'd he'd gotten Zatanna's carnation from Penny. The club was a kaleidoscope of flashing lights and pulsing music from a band on a large stage opposite the bar area. In between were tables with people talking, dancing or just watching and listening as the band played.

It was a good thing Harry wasn't susceptible to light-induced seizures or he'd have been on the floor twitching uncontrollably by now. He decided to get himself a drink and look around a bit before finding whoever was in charge. Walking up to the bar, he smiled at the young woman behind it. "What'll you have?" she asked in a loud but friendly tone.

Harry shrugged. "What've you got? It's my first time here."

The young lady looked thoughtful a moment. "You could try a Finagle's Folly, they're pretty good." Harry nodded; he'd never heard of such a drink, but what the hell? He watched the girl added liquid from several bottles, including a tall dark green one, to a shaker, then shook it vigorously for several seconds before pouring it into a brandy snifter. "There you go," she said, smiling. "That's eight bucks."

Harry handed her a ten. "Keep it," he said, and she beamed happily at him. Harry took the drink and began wandering around the room as servers and patrons dodged around him. He finally came to an empty table and sat down, all the better to case the place while pretending to drink. He did take a sip of the Finagle's Folly, just to see what it was like. Not bad, he judged, taking another sip for good measure. He would have to try more when he'd finished looking around.

Harry invoked Supersensory and began examining the perimeter of the club, looking for the room he'd been in before. He found it, along with another room nearby that was the manager's office, plus a larger storage area behind the bar where inventory was stockpiled.

In the office was a black-haired man with a goatee staring at a pile of papers on his desk, a frown of concentration on his features. That would be the manager or the owner, Harry decided; he could tell from the expression on his face. _Uneasy sits the butt that bears the boss_, an old truism flashed through Harry's mind. He started to stand up, to make his way to the manager's office and have a word with him about Zatanna —

"_What the hell are _you_ doing here_?!" Harry turned, for once surprised, to see Penny glaring furiously at him. She was still dressed in the last clothes he'd seen her in, though they were decidedly more rumpled than when he'd left her.

"Oh, hi," he said, sitting back down. "Funny meeting you here again."

"_Funny_?" Penny's tone was sarcastic and nasty. "Yeah, it's frickin' _hysterical_. What's the big idea with running out of my apartment and sending Leonard in to wake me up?!"

"I didn't send Leonard in to wake you up," Harry protested. "I didn't' know he had a key to your apartment."

"He _doesn't_," Penny snapped. He got one of his friends to pick the lock. Leonard was freaking out about what might've happened to _me_ since he saw _you_ leaving my apartment! He asked me a lot of really awkward questions trying to find out!"

"But nothing happened!" Harry reminded her.

"I know that!" she said shrilly. "And what's up with _that_ anyway?!" Inexplicably, she was beginning to cry. "What's wrong with me?!"

For a moment Harry was at a loss. Was she upset because he hadn't taken advantage of her in her inebriated state? Which now, it seemed, had completely passed — she seemed stone sober except for the way she was acting. "Penny, I had no intention of doing anything —"

"_I know that_!" she bawled, putting her face in her hands. "But you were so nice, I — I thought maybe you'd s-stay and h-help me find Zatanna!"

This girl wanted to find Zatanna about as much as he did, Harry thought. "Look," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders to make her focus on him. "When I find her, I'll tell her about you and what you want her to do for you."

Penny looked at him with tear-filled eyes "P-promise?" she sniffled.

"I promise," Harry said. "That is," he added ruefully, "_if_ I can find her. I need to figure out her father's name — to help in my search."

"Her father?" Penny's expression was suddenly focused again. "She mentioned him once — he was supposed to be a famous magician years ago. His name was —" She shook her head. "I don't quite remember. It was something like Don — or John — something like that."

"Good enough for a start," Harry muttered. He looked Penny in the eye. "Look," he said sincerely. "I apologize for running out on you. But it's important for me to find Zatanna. I will tell her about you."

"Okay," Penny nodded. She was giving Harry a very intense look. "And — and if things don't work out —" Harry opened his mouth to protest but she put a finger over his lips. "If they don't work out, don't forget about me, okay?"

She took her finger away. What was Harry going to say about an offer like that? "Okay," he echoed.

"Okay," Penny repeated. She hugged him suddenly, tightly, and after a moment Harry returned the hug. Unconsciously Harry began counting under his breath: "One-Picadilly, two-Picadilly, three-Picadilly —" this was certainly a long hug, more than three "Picadillies" in duration —

A loud crash at the other end of the club startled both of them. The door to the entrance lounge had burst off its hinges, throwing it and the security guy on the other side into the club where they both slammed into the bar. A moment later a tall, cloaked man swept into the room, wand in hand, looking around for someone. His eyes finally landed on Harry and he shouted, "_There_ you are!"

"What the f—" Penny began. Harry instinctively pushed her behind him, invoking Supersensory. He focused on the man's face, but he'd already recognized the red hair on the man's head. It was Ron!

Ron's expression was confusion at first, then anger. "What the _hell_?!" he said, seeing Harry protecting some blonde. He ignored the roomful of people who were now screaming and running out of the room as fast as they could. "Is this why you left Britain, Harry?!" he shouted. "So you could hook up with women in bars?!"

"That's not what's going on, Ron!" Harry shouted back. "You know what's been going on with me and Ginny!"

"Who the hell is _Ginny_?" Penny shouted.

"She's my sister," Ron answered her. "And his _wife_!"

"Your wife?!" Penny gasped, stepping away from him. Without another word she turned and ran out the back entrance of the club.

The room was nearly empty now; everyone had fled, including the manager who, Harry suspected, would be contacting the magical police to come take control of the situation. "Ron —" he began.

"Save it," Ron snapped, his voice hard and full of anger. He pointed his wand at Harry. "I don't know what's going on here, and I really don't give a damn, but you're coming back with me, Potter!"

**=ooo=**

A busy October first was finally winding down for Clark and Lois. It was Moving Day! They had finally found an apartment both of them liked: not far from the _Planet_, a matter of only a few blocks, and priced (barely) within their budget. With one bedroom and one-and-a-half baths, it was perfect for the two of them. It was also on the 20th floor of the building they were in, near the top, which gave Clark some anonymity if he had to suddenly leave from the balcony for any reason — an issue that was bound to come up given his dual identity.

They had loaded up the truck with enough items to make it appear they were moving in normally, though Clark had been bringing in the furniture they'd brought from Smallville through the patio doors of the balcony using super-speed after dark, then unpacked everything and put it all away under Lois's watchful eyes. Finally finished, Clark had sat down on the sofa, by no means tired but glad to have moving out of the way.

"What shall we do now?" Lois asked, sitting down beside him and handing him a cup of freshly-brewed coffee. "A movie?" Though cable hookup wouldn't happen until Monday, there was still quite a few DVDs they hadn't watched yet; Lois loved to pick up new titles but, who had the time to watch them while she was busy getting the news out to everyone in Metropolis?

"I don't know," Clark said, glancing over at the shelf of DVDs. He could of course read all the titles from where he was sitting. "It's close to Halloween — what about _Young Frankenstein_?"

"Halloween's a month away," Lois objected. "And we've watched that movie already."

"But it's funny," Clark pointed out.

"Or maybe you just like looking at Inga's 'knockers'," Lois teased.

Clark looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Well, they're not bad," he admitted with a shrug.

"Oh, so _now_ the truth come out!" Lois laughed. She reached up and pulled the top of her blouse down so her cleavage was exposed. "Vhy, sank you, Doktor," she said, mimicking Ilsa's thick accent. "Now if you chust had an enormous —"

"Okay, okay," Clark said, cutting her off. "Maybe you'd like to watch _Beaches_ again," he suggested.

"Oh God no," Lois said, rolling her eyes. She let her blouse go so it covered her cleavage again. "You know," she added. "We never had dinner — maybe we should go out for something to eat."

"It's after nine," Clark said, glancing at her watch. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather break our new stove in?"

"Pffft," Lois scoffed. "No. Besides, you aren't that big a fan of my cooking, Clark."

Clark had the good sense to look embarrassed. "Well, we're going to have to save money instead of eating out so much," he reminded her.

Lois was silent for a moment. "Well, at least you're closer to work now," she said, nodding toward the balcony.

"Yes, it's not far to the _Planet_," Clark agreed, absently sipping his coffee.

"No, I meant —" she stretched her hands out in a flying gesture. "You know…"

"Oh. Yeah," Clark nodded. "Of course," he said, a bit uncomfortably. Why would she bring that up _now_?

"You usually go out on Saturday nights," Lois added matter-of-factly.

"Yes…" he regarded her carefully. "Well, but this is our first night in our own apartment. I thought it would be nice to enjoy it together."

Lois beamed at him. "That's sweet. But you know," she added a moment later, "if something really important happens, I don't want you to think you'd be breaking a promise to me…"

Clark put an arm around her and pulled her close. "I get it," he said softly. "Don't worry, Miss Lane, I don't think wild horses could drag me out of this apartment tonight —"

There was a bright flash at the window, followed by several more in quick succession. Both Clark and Lois turned to look out the window.

"Uh-oh," Lois said. "I think it's time for the dog and pony show."

Clark was staring at something in the distance, further than normal eyes could see. "Something's happening over at the Plaza," he said, frowning. "But I'm not sure what those lights are or where they're coming from."

Lois was giving him a knowing look. "Better go check it out, just to be sure. I call dibs on the byline!"

"If there is one," Clark said. He stood up. A moment later amid a blur of motion Clark Kent had disappeared, replaced by a tall man in a red-and-blue uniform and cape. "I'll be back shortly," he said, then vanished out the window.

**=ooo=**

Of all the things Harry might have been doing on a Saturday night, staring down Ron Weasley over drawn wands had not been on his "to-do" list. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, trying to figure out how Ron had even found him.

Ron looked pretty ticked off. "I'm dragging your sorry arse back home before you get us in dutch with the Yanks. You _know_ we're not supposed to be over here!"

"That's kind of the point, really," Harry retorted, wondering whether he was going to have to stun Ron to end this stand-off. That was bound to put a crimp in their friendship. "I didn't want to be found, remember? So how'd you do it, then?"

Ron smirked. "Come back home with me and I'll show you. You'll get a laugh out of it."

"Not likely," Harry said flatly. Wizards weren't supposed to be able to track other wizards, much less an Auror! "And I'm not coming back, not now. Not 'til I'm good and ready."

"You're not supposed to _be_ here," Ron said again, more urgently this time. "Even _I'll_ get in trouble if they find out I'm here!"

Harry eyes widened in sudden understanding. "You're not here on Ministry's orders, are you? Then who —" he suddenly grimaced. "Oh, not — _her_?"

"Her who?" Ron asked warily. Then, "oh, _hell_ no! You know I'm on your side about that mess, mate! But coming to _America_? That's just going too far — literally!"

Both men had been circling slowly as they spoke, looking for an opportune moment to either fight or flee. Both options had their advantages. If you could Disapparate away it was almost impossible to follow unless you were close enough to catch hold of the Disapparating wizard before they dematerialized. Both Harry and Ron maintained distance between them.

Contrariwise, if you were prepared when the other wizard began to Disapparate you could hit them with a Stunner or even something nastier, if you had time to cast it. That could leave the departing wizard stunned or disabled wherever they appeared. If you had a way to track them you could Apparate to where they were and capture them at leisure. Harry had to be careful not to give Ron an opening to Stun him if he was going to try and get away.

But they both needed to leave, and soon. If not the manager, then someone who'd run out of the club must be contacting the local magical police to get someone here and deal with the crazy wizard who'd broke in and started a fight with the bouncer — dropping him in his tracks and terrorizing the customers.

"The local golds will be here any second now," Harry warned. "We can't be found here or there'll be a nasty stink about it."

"So come with me," Ron urged. "Or run. I'm fine, either way. In fact —" he twisted his wand and snapped it upwards. A bright flash shot upward from his wand and blasted through the roof, then burst into a pyrotechnic display.

As his wand came back down to point at Harry, Harry silently cast _Expelliarmus_. Ron blocked it. "Nice try," he sneered. "Like I wouldn't expect _that_ move from you. Now let the coppers come for us, then. Either way, you'll be going home soon."

"Idiot," Harry snapped. Without taking his wand off Ron he held his free hand up to the side of his face, casting an Obscuring Charm. The charm would conceal his face and disguise his voice, making him almost impossible to identify.

"Good idea," Ron said, and a moment later his features were obscured as well. "D'you want to continue this dance here or wait for the bobbies?" His voice now sounded hollow and indistinct, not like Ron's at all.

"If you can track me there's no use me leaving," Harry said, his own voice now sounding strange as well. "We both might as well just —"

"Both of you might just as well give yourselves up," a new voice said, from above. A moment later a red-and-blue garbed man floated down through the hole Ron had made in the roof, landing between the two of them. "I hope you have a good explanation for the trouble you've caused…here." Clark glanced around the room he'd landed in. This place looked a lot different than it had in its Club Metro days, he recalled. Now it was positively — surreal. And these two men, whoever they were, were just as unreal. Both their faces were blurred, indistinct — he couldn't see through the blurriness even with X-ray vision.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" one of them said, in obvious surprise. He must not read the paper much, Clark decided.

"I could ask you the same thing," Clark said, evenly, "but it's pretty obvious you know magic." The man was holding a _wand_ in his hand, for Krypton's sake!

Harry was staring hard at Superman. Now that he'd seen him in person, the differences between him and Clark seemed dramatic. Clark was a big guy, but this Superman seemed _huge_. And muscular, a lot more so than Clark, maybe. There was a resemblance to Clark, but… Had Harry been wrong in thinking they could be the same man?

"You know about magic?" Ron asked, warily. "Then you ought to know we're not to be trifled with, whoever you are. So why don't you just bugger off and —"

"No," Harry said.

"…What?" Ron shook his head, confused.

"What?" Clark said as well, looking toward the other person in the room. He too had a wand in his hand. What did he mean, "No"? Were they going to come along peacefully? Would he have to get Zatanna involved in this? Magic was her strong suit, not his.

"No," Harry continued, "this is no time for distractions."

Ron understood and smiled minutely. Harry wanted him to distract the bloke who'd crashed their private party. "The hell it's not!" he said loudly. "_Stupefy_!" A red bolt shot out of his wand and impacted on the S-shield on Superman's chest.

"Ouch," Superman said, looking down at his chest. That had stung a bit, but caused no real damage. Not a very powerful sorcerer, then. "You shouldn't have done that," he told the man, shaking his head.

"Let's have another go, then," the man said. But before he could cast Stupefy again the strangely-garbed man was suddenly right next to him, with Ron's wand in his hand.

"I'll take that," Superman said. "And yours as —" But even as he turned toward the second sorcerer, a small wad of gum hit his cheek and stuck. The second man's wand was pointed at him.

"What the —" Clark reached up to pull the gum off his face. There was a sudden pull at his navel and Clark found himself whirling amid a vortex of sound and colors. What in the _world_ —?

The whirling and spinning lasted only a few moments, but when Clark stopped he was high above the ground and in daylight. He looked around, quickly orienting himself. He was hovering high over Romania, in Europe! He'd been transported here somehow, nearly as quickly as he could fly here under his own power!

The sorcerer's wand was still in his hand. Clark looked at it carefully; it seemed to be a stick of willow wood with an engraved handle. Looking deeper into it, he saw a long filament inside that looked like a strand of hair.

And the wad of gum (or whatever it was) was still stuck to his cheek. Frowning with disgust, Clark pulled it off his cheek, scanning it with his super-vision. It seemed to be nothing more than a wad of gum, but after a moment it vanished. Clark shook his head dismissively then shot off toward the west and home. Within a few seconds he was arcing down toward the Plaza and the old Club Metro location, but the two men had disappeared.

Well, that encounter had not been one of his better moments. Clark decided to show the wand he'd confiscated to Zatanna, see what she could tell him about it. But first he'd better go tell Lois what had happened.

One thing was for sure. This wasn't a night that a movie and popcorn was going to make any better.

**=ooo=**

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. "That bloke nicked my wand!"

"Sorry about that," Harry muttered, walking quickly toward his fellow Auror. "You got your backup?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered petulantly, producing his spare wand. "But you owe me a new wand now!"

"Alright," Harry said distractedly. "Now let's get out of here, he'll be back any second." He caught Ron's wand arm as he started to lift it toward his face. "Don't remove the Obscuring Charm yet — he might be looking."

"Where'd you send him?" Ron wanted to know, as Harry picked up a shot glass from a nearby table and tapped it with his wand, turning it into a Portkey.

"Romania," Harry said. "About three thousand feet above Bucharest."

Ron laughed, and Harry smiled. The tension that had existed between them in the club had evaporated since they were working together now. But Harry couldn't forget that Ron had come to drag him back to Britain. "Come on, we've got to go before he gets back."

"Before he gets back?!" Ron looked surprised. "How bloody fast _is_ that bloke?"

"Really fast," Harry said shortly. "Come _on_." Ron touched the shot glass and the two of them disappeared as the Portkey whisked them to their destination. A few seconds later and they were inside Harry's apartment, in the hidden room Harry had found when he moved in.

"Bit dark in here," Ron said, invoking Supersensory again. "Cramped, too," he added as he had a look round. "I hope you're not _living_ here, mate."

"This is my lab," Harry explained. "This room is shielded against any kind of scyring or visual detection, even Superman's."

"Is that the guy we just met?" Ron wondered. "You know, the one who _nicked my wand_!" he added with annoyance.

"I'll get your bloody wand back," Harry said, wearily. "But you wouldn't have lost it in the first place if you'd just stayed —"

"Don't say it," Ron warned, and Harry shrugged. "So let's have a look at the rest of your flat."

"Not yet," Harry shook his head. "I don't want him to see us together so soon after that incident in the club."

"Is he some kind of wizard, then?" Ron wanted to know. "Don't you have the usual protection wards on your place?"

"He's a Muggle, but a very unusual one," Harry explained. "He can see into this apartment from 10 miles away, or 100 miles. He could even hear us if we were just barely whispering. You saw how fast he moved when he grabbed your wand."

"I thought he'd Apparated," Ron said, impressed. "And right through an Anti-Apparition Jinx! That _is_ fast." He cocked his head toward the rest of Harry's apartment. "So is it safe to leave this hidey-hole yet?"

Harry was silent a moment, examining his detectors. There was no sense of Superman approaching or trying to look into his apartment. He either didn't suspect that Harry was one of the two men from the club or he'd decided not to pursue the matter now. "I think we can leave the room."

They Apparated into Harry's living room. Harry waved the lights on and Ron surveyed the room with normal vision. "Not bad," he shrugged. "Bit small, but I guess you don't need a lot of room." He gave Harry a sideways look. "Have any bints over yet?"

Harry sighed, annoyed. "I'm still married to your sister, Ron."

"I remember," Ron nodded, crossing his arms. "I just wondered if you remembered that — it's been something like a month since you left Britain, I thought you might've forgotten us."

Harry dropped into a chair. "I _explained_ to you why I was leaving. You do remember that conversation, don't you?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah, I remember." His voice became mocking. "'Oh, Ron, Ginny threw me out of my house and won't let me see Lily or the boys! Oh Ron, I think she wants to divorce me! Oh Ron, I think she's gone batshit crazy, she doesn't listen to reason anymore!'"

Harry stoically took the mocking. "It seems like she _did_ go mental," he added, when Ron finally wound down. "I knew she wasn't happy but she really lost it right after the end of Quidditch season." Quidditch was played year-round but the regular season ran from the beginning of November to the end of June; during July through August playoffs were held along with the Quidditch World Cup every fourth year.

"Yeah, she did get pretty bad then," Ron agreed. "Look," he said, running his hand nervously through his mop of red hair. "I'm not trying to beat you up about Ginny, mate —"

"Well, you're doing a fair imitation of it," Harry retorted.

Ron ignored the jibe. "But you can't just run off to America and hide from the problem!"

"You were the one who suggested I leave," Harry pointed out.

"But not to America!" Ron protested. "Merlin's pants, Harry! D'you know how much trouble we'll be in if the Ministry finds out we're over here?"

"I've already been accused of infidelity in front of the Wizengamot, sacked and thrown out of my own home," Harry reminded him tartly. "I don't think I can get in much more trouble."

"_Plus_ you took all your money out of Gringotts," Ron added. He began to pace back and forth in front of Harry's chair. "When Ginny finds out about that she's going to go bezerk."

"I don't doubt it," Harry muttered. "All my money is over here now, in American Muggle banks. The Ministry and the Yanks don't have any agreements about access to financial accounts or wizard vaults — they can't just walk in and demand my money back. The only way the Ministry could seize my assets is for Aurors to walk into my bank and curse the employees to force them to hand it over. Since the Muggle Equalization Act they can't do stuff like that anymore."

The Muggle Equalization Act, passed in 2008, had granted Muggles more recognition among the wizarding communities around the world. Until that time, a British wizard was considered within his rights to use Muggle homes, vehicles and other property as they saw fit, without recompense to the Muggle owner for its use or any damage incurred.

"So you're just going to leave Ginny high and dry?" Ron asked, tensely. As batty as she'd been acting the past several months Ron did not want to see her completely cut off. "She earned a lot of gold while she was playing Quidditch, mate."

"And she's still got it," Harry sighed. "Didn't she ever tell you — she kept her winnings in a separate vault. That was going to be for our retirement, she told me, along with my parents' money and what Sirius left me. The only gold that she ever gave me was from her _Daily Prophet_ job, and that's never paid very much."

"That's my point," Ron insisted, finally dropping into another chair and facing Harry. "She can't live and raise your children on what the _Prophet_ pays her — she spends most of her time over at the Burrow now."

"Ron, I'm not going to leave her destitute if we get divorced," Harry told him patiently. "Leaving my money in Gringotts was practically inviting Lucius Malfoy to find a way to take it from me, using the Wizengamot like his own wand to curse me into oblivion. I'm not going to let him get away with that anymore."

"Yeah, that's showing him, skulkering off to America," Ron said sarcastically. "You know, Hermione thinks you coming here was a bad idea, too."

"No — really?" It was Harry's turn to be sarcastic. "The Solicitor General of the British Ministry doesn't agree with one of my personal decisions? How will I be able to go on after this?"

"Knock it off," Ron snapped. "You know what I mean — she's worried about you, mate."

"Me, too," Harry added, almost to himself. He looked up at Ron again. "But what's done is done. I'm here in America and it's not really too bad here at all, if you don't count the weird Muggles who think they should be protecting the public beneath masks and cowls, and with abilities no other Muggles have."

Ron looked puzzled. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, for example: there's a town called Gotham City that has some bloke who dresses up in a costume to make himself look like a bat. He runs around in the middle of the night beating up people he catches committing crimes. A real nutjob, from the sound of him.

"And there's another guy who thinks he's Robin Hood — he gets dressed up in green and carries a big bow and a bunch of fancy arrows around, stopping crime. And you saw Superman earlier — he does the same thing, except with the powers he has he can fly all around the world stopping disasters as they happen."

"Huh," Ron shook his head. "I guess helping people is what we do, too — stopping Dark wizards from hurting folks, isn't it?"

"It's what _you_ do, now," Harry said, some bitterness in his voice. "I'm out of that business."

Ron stared at him a long moment. "You know," he finally said, "I detected a bit of deception in your voice when you said that. Are you sure you're out of the Auror business, completely?"

Harry gave a short laugh. "As a matter of fact, I've been having a go of it where I live right now, in Smallville."

"Really?" Ron was amused. "You just ragged on Muggles who run around beating up bad guys, and now you're admitting you do it, too?"

"No, not like they do it," Harry disagreed. "I don't dress up in some clown suit. I don't let anyone see me at all. These costumed crimefighters here in America don't get the respect Aurors do in Britain. They even passed legislation a year or so ago to force anyone who wanted to fight crime to register with the government. Obviously I don't want to do that."

"So what was going on with you and that girl at that pub?" Ron asked unexpectedly. "Was that supposed to be you 'fighting crime' or something?"

Harry scowled. Just when he thought he and Ron were getting along again —! "That had nothing to do with crimefighting."

"Amazingly, I guessed that," Ron said evenly. "So what were you two supposed to be doing?"

"She had information on someone I'm looking for," Harry muttered. "A witch with some pretty impressive powers. She seems to think she's better at magic than I am and I've been wanting to talk to her about it."

"Huh," Ron grunted. "Know where she's at?"

"I found her house," Harry answered. "It's got a magical guardian that asks you questions before it lets you in. Sort of like the Ravenclaw common room, except it asks three questions and you have to answer them honestly or it sends you to your home. I found out the answer to the last question it asks just before you broke into that club."

"So you know how to get in?" Ron asked, looking interested.

Harry nodded. "The witch's name is Zatanna Zatara, her father was John Zatara, a famous magician years ago, who was also apparently a wizard as well."

Ron was nodding thoughtfully. "You know, I think Hermione and I went to see a show in Paris a year or so after the War ended," he remembered. "The final act was that guy, John Zatara! He did a pretty interesting show, too — it was Muggle magic mixed with real magic, some really interesting stuff, too. It was hard to tell where the Muggle magic ended and the real magic began. I forgot all about him. I think he died some years ago, didn't he?"

"I think so," Harry agreed. "His daughter Zatanna inherited all his stuff. She's got a magical estate called Shadowcrest that's currently outside Gotham City. It can change its location so I want to get back there and try to get in before it moves again, to somewhere even further away."

"So what's stopping you?" Ron shrugged.

"You are," Harry retorted bluntly. "You can go back to Britain and tell Hermione you couldn't find me, or whatever you want. I'll come back in my own time."

"You may not have much choice," Ron warned him. "Ginny's thinking of having you declared legally deceased so she can nullify your marriage and get access to your vault. If she talks the Wizengamot into that, and if the Malfoys want it to happen it will, and you'll lose your parental rights as well."

"Shit," Harry swore. "_Now_ you tell me that! Does she have a petition drafted yet?"

"She's talking it over with someone in the Wizengamot now," Ron told him. "I'm sure it's someone in Malfoy's pocket. He wants a hefty sum of gold to make the petition 'curseproof,' so she's going to be in a bad way when they open your vault and find out there's nothing there."

"She's got her own gold, Ron," Harry reminded him in an irritated tone. "And I've told you that James, Albus and Lily have their own vaults, each with enough gold for their Hogwarts school supplies for all seven years. And I've got a private arrangement with Griphook at Gringotts to hold their keys until they each turn eleven."

But he's not a parent or guardian," Ron pointed out. "If Ginny finds out he's got the keys after you're declared legally deceased she can demand them from him and the Wizengamot will back her up."

"I know," Harry said darkly. "I wish I'd kept them myself — they'd be safer with me."

"Unless you did something stupid like trying to play vigilante, and someone manages to —" Ron made a throat-cutting gesture.

"Ron, they're _Muggles_," Harry said, exasperated. "I could take on a dozen Muggle cops and not even work up a sweat."

"What about those other ones, the ones in the fancy costumes?" Ron objected. "Could you take on that Superman bloke, for example? You managed to surprise him once with that Portkey Gum, but he can move a lot faster than we can, you said."

"I'm not worried about them," Harry said, clamping down on his concerns about Zatanna so Ron wouldn't detect any more deception leakage. "Smallville isn't a hotbed of lawlessness so there's nothing here I can't handle. Now that you know where I'm at, you can keep an eye on Ginny and the Wizengamot and let me know if they start the process to get me declared dead. If I have to I can show up in Britain to prove them wrong."

"They'll order you to come before the Wizengamot, you know," Ron said, cautioning him. "They'll probably ask where you've got off to. If you tell them you've been in America they'll probably trump up some charges against you."

"There's no law against visiting America," Harry scoffed.

"But there are protocols for Aurors visiting America, and vice versa," Ron said. "They'll say you violated them!"

"The Wizengamot bloody _sacked_ me, Ron!" Harry said loudly. "I'm not a part of the Ministry anymore!"

"They can always say they sacked you because you went rogue," Ron argued. "That you were over here against orders and they found out about it and kicked you out. Anything to protect their own arses and cover up what they did to you!"

"Let them try it," Harry snarled. His memories of his trial at the Wizengamot were stored safely away in a location no one would ever think of, and secured in a way only Harry could get to. They couldn't use Veritaserum to force him to tell, he was effectively immune to the stuff, and he could resist the Imperius Curse if he had to. He looked back at Ron, then stood.

"You need to get back home," he said. "Tell Hermione I'll come back, but when _I_ want to, not before. Let me know if Ginny brings that petition before the Wizengamot."

"Hermione's going to be upset I didn't bring you back to Britain."

"Oh well," Harry shrugged. "You can't always get what you want, mate."

Ron did not look happy, but he shrugged resignedly. "What are you going to do?" he wanted to know.

"I'm going to go see a witch about your wand."

**=ooo=**

A minute after Ron left the apartment (he'd offered Harry his hand, then used it to pull him into a brief hug) with the Portkey Harry had enchanted, Harry was once again beneath the Invisibility Cloak standing before the large ornate door of Shadowcrest. He knocked three times, once more enduring the short poem the door challenged him with, then said, "Ask your questions."

"_What_ is your name?"

"My name is Harry Potter."

"_What_ do you seek?"

"I wish to enter Shadowcrest."

"_What_ is Zatanna's father's name?"

"John Zatara."

Pop. _Whoosh_. And Harry was back in his apartment again. "Son of a _bitch_," he swore. What was wrong with _that_ answer?

Harry threw himself into a chair and pondered this last unexpected turn of events. Penny had told him, and Ron agreed, that Zatanna's father's name was John Zatara. Yet that name wasn't the name the guardian of Shadowcrest wanted to hear. Would Penny know about any other names for Zatara? It was unlikely — she wasn't even that sure about _John_ Zatara, it turned out. Harry wished he knew where Ron and Hermione had gone in Paris to see Zatara perform. It might be worth a trip to Europe to find it.

But before he went to that trouble, Harry decided to review what he'd learned so far. And to do that he would need his Pensieve. He Apparated into his hidden room, then said, "Lights." Candles scattered about the room lit, bathing the room in their soft glow.

Harry stepped in front of the Pensieve, concentrating on his memories of visiting Magical Hall. He would review those memories from beginning to end to see if anything had escaped his notice earlier. Touching his wand to his temple, he whispered, "_Pensextraxi_!" A silver thread of thought came out of his temple, attached to the tip of the wand, and he slowly lowered it into the swirling liquid in the bowl. The silver thread spread itself out, vanishing into the liquid, and Harry leaned forward until his nose touched it.

The familiar lurch beneath his feet threw him forward into the bowl, falling through cold blackness until he found himself in the entrance room to Magical Hall, staring at — himself.

The Harry of his memory was looking around the room, taking in the posters arrayed across its walls. Harry was looking, too — but his attention was focused on things he hadn't paid much mind to the first time he was here. There were other people sitting at the tables in this entrance area, people he hadn't given much thought about. Most of them, he saw, had glanced at him then went back to their conversions. Except for one person — a girl with auburn hair wrapped in a dark cloak had her eyes on him. As Harry stared at her he realized — it was Penny! She was already here! No wonder she had found him so quickly after he'd arrived. How had she known he was coming here? Or was this just a coincidence? He saw there were a couple of empty bottles of beer on the table where she was sitting.

But Penny was a dead end — at least as far as Zatara's first name was concerned. He would have to look elsewhere for that. Hopefully there would be something in the club itself that would give him a clue. Harry watched, scowling slightly as his memory exchanged words with the security goon, then entered the bar.

Harry prowled around the club for some time, looking into rooms his Supersensory-enhanced memories had let him see without leaving the dance floor. But there was nothing in the storeroom he'd been in earlier or in the manager's office that gave him any clue about John Zatara's real name. That trip to Europe was looming closer and closer in his future.

Passage of time in the memory had slowed to a crawl as he'd examined it in minute detail. Now, as he turned to find Penny yelling at him he shook his head in resignation and felt himself floating upward into blackness. There was nothing more to be learned here. Then he stopped and moved back downward. No. He was giving up too easily!

There had to be _something_ he was missing, and by Merlin Harry was going to figure out what it was! He steered himself back toward the beginning of the memory, back to the room he'd first found himself in, to go at this again from the start.

The memory of Harry was looking around the entrance room again, as he had done before, but this time Harry looked where his other self was looking, at the posters on the walls. There was still nothing remarkable about them: the blonde lady singer had one arm extended upward, almost imploringly, as her other hand rested over her heart. Behind her image was a name, "Peggy Lee," but that name meant nothing to Harry. As the Harry in the memory turned from one poster to the next his gaze followed them as well.

The image of the magician was next, a life-like illustration of a dark-haired man with a top hat and mesmerizing eyes. The trick he was performing seemed trivial and mundane — pulling a rabbit out of a hat — but the intensity in the man's eyes seemed to bespeak of a deeper mystery, a more powerful magic to come. Across the top of the poster was emblazoned the words "The Maestro of Magic — " Harry's eyes slid down to the bottom of the poster, where the words continued. "The Am z ng Giovanni Za a a " it said, the rest of the letters hidden by the magician's legs in a bit of advertising showmanship.

"Of course," Harry muttered, chagrinned at himself for not seeing the obvious earlier. The half-hidden word was ZATARA!

Harry shot up into darkness. A moment later his feet hit the floor of his hidden room as he left the Pensieve. He had looked at that poster more than one and hadn't seen the obvious! "Alright," he said softly, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and throwing it over his shoulders. "Let's try that one more time."

**=ooo=**

"_What_ is Zatanna's father's name?"

"Giovanni Zatara."

There was a short silence, then the front door began to open. "Right. Off you go, then," the guardian of the door told him.

"Thank you," Harry said, stepping inside. The door closed behind him. He slipped off his Invisibility Cloak and put it in his pouch. There was no need to hide now — in fact he _wanted_ Zatanna to return and find him here. It would be interesting to see how she reacted when she realized he'd gotten into her mystical home without her knowledge.

The interior of Shadowcrest was even more impressive than its exterior. He was only standing in the foyer of the mansion, but it opened into a huge entrance hall, with twin staircases of polished wood leading to an upper level; a massive crystal chandelier dangling over the marble floor of the entrance hall. A long, multi-level hallway faded into the distance; the house was much larger inside than it appeared to be from the outside, something very few British wizarding families did with their own homes. It was much simpler to build upward (or downward) than to magically extend a space as large as the average home, but Shadowcrest was much larger than an average home, even without the Extension Charms.

Harry moved slowly down the hallway, boosting the sensitivity of his detectors several times over, but there was nothing remotely threatening or dangerous registering on them. One of the rooms he passed was a large library filled with shelves of magical books of all shapes and sizes. There were large, leather-bound grimoires and cylindrical containers of magic scrolls, along with more conventional books.

He walked past other rooms adjoining the hallway: a room filled with artwork including statues and other items Harry had never seen before. There was a room filled with ancient military weapons: swords, spears, halberds, maces, pikes and a number of full suits of armor as well as coats of mail and ring armor. Why would a witch be interested in such things, Harry wondered. Perhaps these things had belonged to her father. That, or Zatanna might be a more interesting person than he first supposed.

Harry was beginning to feel a pressure on his detectors, a feeling he was being watched. It was hardly surprising, since he was inside someone else's home without real permission to be here; just knowing the password to gain entry didn't give him the _right_ to enter. But this was a matter of making his point with Zatanna: she'd been very smug and condescending the first time they'd met, and he wanted her to realize he knew his way around a wand, too.

The hallway ended with a staircase leading up a level. Harry ascended slowly, his detectors on hair triggers. At the top of the stairs the floor split into two mezzanines, both facing the hallway. A doorway about halfway down the left side had a human occupant inside it, but the room was shielded against his Supersensory Charm. Harry turned to the left and walked up to the door. He could see small wisps of steam coming from beneath it. He glanced at the door; the room was shielded from his Supersensory vision but not the door itself — he could see deeply enough to know the door was not locked. Was that an invitation to enter?

Maybe it was, but maybe it wasn't. Well, like the old expression went, it was easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission. He put his hand on the doorknob.

The door swung inward unexpectedly. Harry jerked his hand back like the knob had burned him. Another shock greeted him as the door opened fully: Zatanna was standing in front of door, clad only in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, her hair wrapped up in a towel. "Hi, Harry," she said, as if expecting him to be there. Which she obviously had.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling a little nervously. He felt sort of like a small boy that had been caught peeping through a keyhole. "Nobody answered the door so I just came in," he said, covering his embarrassment.

Zatanna laughed. Her laugh was like silver wind chimes in a lazy, warm breeze. "I'm sure an Auror like you can spin a better excuse than that. Especially a _Head_ Auror, Harry. So what brings you to my humble abode?"

Harry's deception detectors weren't registering any untrustworthy motivations in her question. She really hadn't expected to show up at her home. But the wet, clingy bathrobe and the so-clean smell coming from her was a little distracting. "Do you want me to wait while you get dressed —?"

"Don't worry about it," she said, casually gesturing for him to follow her. "We can sit in my parlor and talk." She led him back toward the stairs and through a door that was hidden behind a curtain at the top of the staircase. Inside was a cozy room with a fireplace with two comfortable-looking chairs in front of it. There was cherry wood coffee table between the chairs. "Have a seat," she swept a hand at one of the chairs and Harry waited politely while she sat down in the other chair. "I noticed you found the scyring spells at your apartment," she said unexpectedly as Harry settled into his own chair. "I wondered if you'd find them — I put them, quite ingeniously I thought, on the cameras Luthor had set up there."

"I'm sure you noticed I'd found them," Harry nodded. "I've since warded the apartment against any scyring magic."

"You hope," Zatanna added, smiling. Her smile was already beginning to irritate Harry again; he'd have to hide that if he was going to do what he'd come here to do. "Is that what you came here for, to scold me about those spells?"

"I came to ask a favor, actually," he said quietly. "You know Superman, I assume."

"That's an interesting assumption," Zatanna answered. She stared at him a long second. "But in this case it's a correct one — I do know Superman."

"A friend and I had a slight — altercation with him earlier this evening," Harry said tentatively.

Zatanna's eyebrows went up. "An 'altercation' — how interesting! Who is this 'friend' of yours? That blonde witch named Penny something?"

"How do you know about her?" Harry asked, frowning. Was she reading _his_ mind?

"I saw a flash of her in your mind a second ago," Zatanna told him. "You're a little worried about her, I take it?"

"I am, a little," Harry admitted. "But she's not the friend I was thinking of. This friend came to visit me from Britain earlier tonight. There was a misunderstanding, and we apparently attracted Superman's attention. My friend works for the British Ministry as an Auror, and his visit to America is on the down-low. Superman managed to get ahold of his wand before I teleported him away, so I couldn't recover it."

"So your friend's without a wand, then?" Zatanna seemed to find this amusing as well. "Aurors aren't supposed to be easy to disarm, are they?"

"Superman's not the kind of opponent Aurors are used to dealing with," Harry argued. "I expect he's going to show it to you, to see what you can tell him about it."

Zatanna leaned forward in her chair. The top of her bathrobe opened, exposing her cleavage, and Harry just managed to keep his eyes on hers. "In fact, he called and left a message on my cell phone asking me to meet him at — well, at an undisclosed location, to show me something. That wand must be the 'something' he wants to show me."

"I'd like to get that wand back to my friend," Harry said, "I'd consider it a favor from you if you could get it back for him," he finished, respectfully.

Zatanna sat back, steepling her fingers as she thought about it. "I think I can do that, Mr. Potter —" at Harry's look she nodded. "Oh, yes, I know. You had to tell Jeeves your true name, after all."

"Who's Jeeves?"

"My butler," Zatanna smiled. "He answers the door for me when people want to enter Shadowcrest."

"That creepy disembodied voice, you mean," Harry noted dryly. Zatanna gave a small shrug.

"I've heard of you, you know," she said matter-of-factly. "Some Dark Lord named Voldemort, aka Tom Marvolo Riddle, tried to kill you 30 years ago, didn't he?"

Harry nodded. "I didn't think Americans gave a toss what happened decades ago over in Britain."

"Well, most don't," Zatanna agreed. "But I'm not most Americans, and I'm rather inquisitive to boot. Anyway, my father considered going to Britain and taking him out before he got to be a bigger pest than he already was, but other matters prevented him from doing so. I assume your Ministry handled him?"

Harry shook his head slowly. Was she putting him on? "No, he took over the Ministry back in 1997 for almost a year. He and his followers, the Death Eaters, killed a lot of people, including many of friends of mine, before he finally came to kill me. But he'd made a crucial miscalculation and I was able to stop him."

"So you killed him?" Zatanna asked, looking at Harry curiously.

Harry managed not to flinch at that question. "Some people think I did," he said at last. "He certainly tried to kill _me_, there at the end. He had the wand for it, or so he believed." Harry shook his head, remembering the convoluted circumstances that had woven together to make him the master of the Elder Wand, not Voldemort. "I didn't even have my own wand." He took his holly wand from the pocket it was hidden in, holding it up for Zatanna to see. "I had a hawthorn wand, a wand my friend had taken from someone else, and when Voldemort tried to curse me, to kill me, I used the spell I've always used against him: the Disarming Charm. But the wand he held, the most dangerous wand in the world, wasn't really his to command, and it turned his Killing Curse back on him, and the wand flew to me, its true master."

Zatanna was giving him a look of new respect. "That wand…" she said slowly. "You called it 'the most dangerous wand in the world.' Are you talking about the Death Wand?"

"It might be called that," Harry nodded. "It's also called the Deathstick, or sometimes the Wand of Destiny. I call it the Elder Wand."

"I know of it," Zatanna said, her voice lowering to a near-whisper. "It was believed at one time that Adolph Hitler had collected it as a part of his attempt to gather artifacts of occult power to his cause."

"Close," Harry said, his voice low as well. "It was owned at one time by a wandmaker named Gregorivitch, who had it taken from him by Gellert Grindelwald in 1899, shortly before he became friends with Albus Dumbledore, who eventually defeated him in 1945 and took the wand for himself. It was his until 1998 when Voldemort stole the wand from Dumbledore's grave —"

"Wait," Zatanna said suddenly. "Who killed Dumbledore? Shouldn't _he_ have had the wand if Dumbledore was defeated?"

"He was killed —" Harry swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "He was killed by a wizard named Severus Snape. But Dumbledore was already dying of a curse, and he and Snape had agreed to have him end the headmaster's life if it would advance his position with Voldemort, who believed Snape was spying on the forces of Light for him."

"But he wasn't?" Zatanna surmised, entranced with the story Harry was telling.

"No," Harry continued. "But it did cement Snape's position with Voldemort until just before the final battle at Hogwarts, when Voldemort killed Snape believing that he had become the master of the Elder Wand by killing Dumbledore."

"But this Snape fellow _did_ kill Dumbledore, you just said so," Zatanna protested, now thoroughly caught up in the tale. "How could he not have become the true master of the Wand?"

"Because Dumbledore had already lost the Wand just before he was killed," Harry explained, his voice almost a whisper. "He was trying to save someone, a boy named Draco Malfoy, from being killed by Voldemort for failing to kill the Headmaster. But Dumbledore was weak, we had just found a —" he hesitated a moment, out of old habit, then plunged ahead "— a Horcrux, an object that holds —"

"I know what it is, Harry," Zatanna said quietly. "Dumbledore was weakened by this Horcrux, then?"

"By breaking through the traps set around it," Harry nodded, remembering. "Draco was able to disarm Dumbledore, and the Elder Wand switched its allegiance to him, though he never realized it. Months later, when I was a captive at the Malfoy Manor —"

"The _Malfoys_ captured you?" Zatanna sounded shocked at that. "They're so well-respected in Britain and Europe these days — that sounds completely out of character for them."

"You'd be surprised what they got up into in those days," Harry said, sardonically. "These days as well. They're one of the reasons I'm here instead of home in Britain now."

"So wait a moment," Zatanna was trying to get the story back on track. "So Draco Malfoy has been a true _master_ of the Death Wand?" Harry nodded. "How did it come to you, then?"

"I'm getting there," Harry told her. "I was a captive in Malfoy Manor and when Ron — my friend — and I managed to get free and attack as they were torturing — _another_ friend of mine, I managed to grab Draco's wand out of his hand and got away. _But not before Dobby was killed_, he reminded himself unhappily. "When I took Draco's wand from him I also became the Elder Wand's master."

"That's very interesting," Zatanna said, looking quite fascinated by Harry's tale. She was giving him an appraising look now. "I'll tell you what, Harry — I'll strike a bargain with you. I'm going to go meet Superman and have a look at that wand you say he's got. I'll bring it back for you to give back to your friend, _Ron_," she added meaningfully. "In return, I want something from you."

"Really?" Harry said resignedly, fearing the worst. "What's that?"

"I want you to stay here at Shadowcrest for a while."

There it was. She was still playing some silly seduction game with him. "I'm still married," he said plaintively.

Zatanna raised an eyebrow. "Did I say I wanted you to stay here and shag me?" she asked, coolly. "No. I just think if you want to get into the superhero business you need a bit of training up to get you to a level where you can actually make a difference, not just creeping around towns like Smallville in the middle of the night picking up trash and preventing traffic accidents."

Harry stiffened. "How do you know —?"

"Just a guess," Zatanna quickly assured him. "You kept getting out your Invisibility Cloak in your apartment and disappearing beneath it for hours at a time. It wasn't hard to surmise you were leaving the apartment and sneaking around Smallville's rooftops looking for trouble. That's where we met, after all," she added, smiling at him.

"I was an Auror too, you know," Harry pointed out. "Do you know how much training you have to go through before you can be an Auror?"

"I do," Zatanna kept smiling her beautiful smile. "Are you saying you went through all that training before you became an Auror?"

Harry grimaced. "No," he said, answering truthfully.

"Are you saying you were even _qualified_ for Auror training before you were made an Auror?" Zatanna pressed him inquiringly.

"It was a — special situation," Harry muttered. "My friends and I had been hunting Voldemort's Horcruxes since August of 1997. Two of them had already been destroyed — Tom Riddle's diary and Marvolo Gaunt's ring. During our hunt we also found Salazar Slytherin's locket and destroyed it. Professor Dumbledore believed Voldemort had split his soul into seven pieces and put the fragments into six Horcruxes. That left three more, and we believed they were in Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, an artifact owned by Rowena Ravenclaw, and the snake Voldemort kept, Nagini. We found the Cup in Gringotts, in the Lestrange vault, and managed to escape."

"Impressive," Zatanna nodded. "Those goblins are very good at guarding gold. I'd like to hear that story as well. _If_ you decide to stay, that is," she added deferentially.

"All right," Harry nodded curtly. "I'll stay. Not because I think I need 'training up,' as you put it," he hastened to add. "But I'd like to compare our magic and techniques. Maybe we can _both_ learn something. Just — just don't get any funny ideas about us, okay?"

"About us?" Zatanna echoed, smiling that damnably beautiful smile or hers once again. "I wouldn't dream of it, Harry. This is strictly professional." She stood. "Well, I'd better get a move on if I'm going to talk to C— to Superman." She coughed. "Excuse me while I change." She began to remove the bathrobe.

Harry jumped up, "Hold on, let me —" But as the bathrobe fell away, a tuxedo top appeared around her torso, while fishnet leggings wound their way up her legs from the slippers, which had suddenly become black high-heeled shoes. The towel on her hair transformed into a top hat, and her lips became glossy and red while eye shadow appeared around her eyes. A long black magician's wand appeared in her hand.

"How do I look?" she asked, turning around once so he could enjoy the full view.

"Not bad," Harry said, managing a grin.

"Right, then." Zatanna gave a small tip of her top hat to Harry. "I'm off to meet with Supes. Make yourself at home while I'm gone. If you need anything, just ask Jeeves — he'll point you in the right direction." She vanished with a soft _pop_.

Harry looked around the now-empty parlor, wondering what he should do next. He'd just agreed to stay in this place with Zatanna, a witch that seemed to take very little around her seriously, for an unspecified period of time. And alone with her except for "Jeeves," who- or whatever he was supposed to be.

Along with that, Ron now knew where he was, and so would Hermione. If he knew Hermione she wouldn't be able to leave things alone — it was in her nature to try and fix things she decided weren't working right. She probably saw the situation between him and Ginny as fixable, though she'd only heard about what was going on through Ron, probably his mum, and maybe Ginny herself. She and Harry had never discussed the issue because _that_ would have been "meddling" in Harry's private life, according to what Ron had told him. But it was alright for Hermione to discuss the problem with everyone _other_ than him! He could probably expect more unwanted attention on his problem with Ginny from the Ron and Hermione front. He sighed with uneasy anticipation.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

=ooo=

**A/N: American magic vs. British magic. I've seen dissenting opinions about the effectiveness of American magic over British magic. The point is, the magic Zatanna uses is different than the magic Harry learned at Hogwarts. In the **_**Smallville**_** episode "Hex" Zatanna was prepared to bring her father back to life at the cost of her own; in Harry's experience this would not even be possible, the Resurrection Stone notwithstanding. From my perspective that makes Harry less powerful than Zatanna. In the comics she can send people forward and backward in time. She can also call demons to her bidding, while British wizards seem to have no knowledge of such beings. **

** But this doesn't mean that Harry cannot learn such abilities. _Homo magi_ may have more affinity toward magic than wizards, even British wizards, but they are probably of the same genetic basis, so Zatanna could teach her magic to Harry. That's something that we'll learn about over the next chapter or so.**


	7. My Dinner With Zatanna

**Chapter Seven  
****My Dinner With Zatanna****  
**

_Updated_ 11/16/2013

**=ooo=**

"Here it is," Clark said, handing the wand to Zatanna. He was back in civilian clothes after returning from the incident at the Plaza and sending a text to Zatanna that he had something for her to look at. That had been almost 30 minutes ago; how long did it take someone who could travel from one place to another almost instantly that long to get here? "I took this from one of the two men who were tearing up the old Club Metro place."

"Interesting," Zatanna murmured, looking the wand over carefully. It was an Ollivander wand, she could tell at once — the magical core matched with wood that had an affinity for the substance was an Ollivander family trademark. Even she wasn't sure how they managed to merge the core with the wood so seamlessly. "This is a well-made wand." She gave it a little shake and silver sparks shot from the tip. She pointed the wand toward a lamp on an end table in Clark and Lois's living room and it transformed into a vase.

"Nice," Lois said, dryly. "But I did like that lamp where it was."

"Of course, Lois," Zatanna smiled. The vase changed back into a lamp.

"So what can you tell me about the owner of the wand?" Clark pressed her.

Zatanna regarded the wand for a moment. "This wand was made in Britain, so the owner is very likely British. But that's not a certainty," she added quickly. "These wands are highly regarded throughout Europe, Scandinavia and even Northern Africa, so it could be someone from any of those places, too. Did you get a look at the owner?"

"Clark said his face and voice were blurry and indistinct," Lois broke in before Clark could answer. Clark nodded.

"I tried using X-ray vision but I couldn't see a thing," he added. "I did check their physiology and they looked human."

"What else can you tell us about the wand?" Lois asked.

"Not much without studying it in more detail," Zatanna admitted. She ran her fingers along the length of willow wood. "I'd like to take it with me, if I can, and see what else I can find out about it."

"Of course," Clark agreed.

"Thank you, Clark," Zatanna smiled at him, and Clark smiled back.

Lois took that opportunity to snatch the wand from Zatanna's hand. "I have a question," she said, examining the wand closely. "Could _I_ use a wand like this?"

"Not unless you were magical," Zatanna said, a little miffed at having the wand taken from her. "Witches and sorcerers use wands to focus their magical energies. But if you're just a normal human you have no magical energy to focus."

Lois was swishing the wand back and forth as if testing Zatanna's words. "So I can't use it," she said, pointing it at the lamp Zatanna had transformed earlier. "But someone like you can."

"It depends on the witch or sorcerer," Zatanna explained. "This wand will work better for some than for others."

"It seemed to work well for you," Clark pointed out.

"I don't need to use a wand," Zatanna said. "Though with the right one I probably wouldn't need to speak my spells aloud and backwards. That's the focus I normally use."

"Well, whatever works," Lois said. Now bored, she handed the wand back to Zatanna and picked up her cup of coffee from the coffee table.

"Would you like something to drink?" Clark asked Zatanna, noticing that Lois hadn't yet offered her something.

"I'm fine," Zatanna said, smiling at Lois, who smiled back in reply.

"I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important," Clark went on, wondering if she'd explain what took her so long to get there.

"Just a bit of entertaining," Zatanna said airily. "I'm on a break at the moment, though I should be getting back shortly." She took her hat off and slipped the wand inside, though it was rather longer than her hat was tall, and placed it back on her head. "I'll see you at the next League meeting," she said, and vanished in a flash of light.

Lois rolled her eyes, though she did not turn toward Clark until she was done. "Well, that wasn't very productive," she said, flatly.

"Zatanna will have more information for us at the next meeting," Clark said confidently. "She knows her magic."

"You didn't say anything about Harry Evans," Lois noted, sipping from her coffee cup once again. "What are you going to do if that wand turns out to be his?" Before Zatanna arrived she and Clark had discussed the idea that one of the men might be Harry, who wasn't in Smallville when the incident at the old Club Metro location had taken place — Clark had checked his apartment after he'd returned from Romania and Harry wasn't there or in any of the "hot spots" in Smallville.

"Harry doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd run around tearing up night clubs," Clark objected. "I'd like to know who that other sorcerer was, the one who hit me with that teleporting gum." He touched his cheek where the gum had stuck to him. "What's even stranger is how many magical people there are in Metropolis! I had no idea."

"You didn't think Zatanna and her father were the only ones out there, did you?" Lois asked, amused at Clark's naiveté. "We've seen others like them, you know —Countess Isobel Theroux and her witches, Fate and his Helmet of Nabu — and Isis," Lois counted, naming them. "I'm just surprised she's never mentioned any of the others before now."

Clark nodded agreement. "Magic seems to be a lot more common than I thought," he murmured. "And since I'm vulnerable to it, I'm going to have to take it more seriously now that I'm out there in the public eye."

"What are you thinking?" Lois asked, apprehensive about where Clark was going with this line of thought.

"I should talk to Zatanna about giving me some pointers about dealing with it," Clark said.

Lois wasn't happy about that, but she nodded agreement. "Well, you should ask her at the next meeting," she said, not very enthusiastically.

Clark studied her for a moment. "You sound a little…upset at the idea of me getting help from Zatanna. I've already told you that I'm not interested in her — only in you, Lois."

"I know," Lois said, though a hint of worry remained in her voice. "It's just — she's got all that magic, I wonder if she's ever thought about using it on you, to make you…want her."

"Zatanna's not like that," Clark assured her. "I think…Zatanna wants someone who wants her for the person she is, not because she's the Mistress of Magic." He smiled at Lois. "It was like all those years you were attracted to the Blur because of all the things he could do, but you never really knew the person behind the image."

Lois gave him a look. "You know I was attracted to you, too, Clark," she argued. "It just took me some time to get to know you, to get you to drop all the secrecy and pretense everyone who knew you said you were so big on."

"You know the reason for all that now," Clark said, pulling her close to him.

"I sure do, Mr. I've-Got-A-Secret," Lois laughed. "And it's a whopper!"

"Speaking of whoppers…" Clark murmured in her ear.

"Oh my God," Lois shook her head before starting to kiss him passionately. "Good thing it's not as big as your ego, or we'd never fit it in this room, much less in — mmmm!"

**=ooo=**

Six time zones to the east another conversation was going on. Hermione Weasley was shaking her head in annoyance as Ron got into his nightclothes, even though it was only a few hours until dawn. "Are you _sure_ you told him how important it was he come back here, if only to avoid a diplomatic incident with the Americans?"

"I was _very_ insistent," Ron said as he sat on the edge of the bed so he could slip on his pajama bottoms. "He just wasn't having any of it, Hermione. Frankly," he added, muttering, "I can see why."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Hermione demanded.

"It _means_," Ron stood, hitching up his bottoms and turning around to face her, "that if I was sacked and thrown out of my own home because my wife went mental and trumped up some crazy-arse lies about me, I'd be a bit pissed off, too!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed in anger. "Do you think _I_ would do something like that, Ron?"

"My _point_ is," Ron said, avoiding a direct answer to that question, "is that the Wizengamot fell for Malfoy's plot all-to-easily. Almost like they _wanted_ to kick Harry out as Head Auror. He ran the Auror Office pretty tight, you know — not like Scrimgeour or Robards did. They weren't that adverse to their men taking a few, shall we say, gratuities, for looking the other way when men like Lucius Malfoy wanted a favor.

"Now Harry's been gone the past three months and things are back to the way they were in 2006 — palms are being greased to look the other way when certain items are smuggled into Britain. Our revenues from boomslang skin import taxes alone have gone down to 75 percent of what we were bringing in a year ago this time. Malfoy had good reason to help get Harry sacked."

"I don't doubt it," Hermione said archly. "And I wish you'd told me about that earlier, Ron — it's something I can have my people look into. But that doesn't excuse Harry running off to America without going through the proper channels!"

"_What_ proper channels?!" Ron exploded. "When you've got the Wizengamot against you there's not much you _can_ do that they don't have their noses poked into! Even _you_ thought it was a good idea for Harry to leave Britain for a bit!"

"But not for _America_, Ron! We just don't have a good working relationship with them right now!"

"When have we ever?" Ron wanted to know. "Bunch of bloody rebels — they never gave a toss about the home country, it was always "me! me! me!" with that lot!"

"It's not that simple," Hermione argued. "The British government back then did treat them rather shabbily. No representation in Parliament, unfair taxes…"

"Pssssfft," Ron scoffed. "But it doesn't matter, I suppose — that was hundreds of years ago."

"Two hundred years ago, Ron," she reminded him. "The original states ratified the U. S. Constitution in 1790, only 211 years ago."

"Right, whatever," Ron said, crawling into bed beside her. "Look, we can discuss this after I've had a nice, long kip — I'm beat." He puckered his lips to kiss her and after a moment Hermione leaned over and pecked him on the mouth. "G'night," he muttered, curling up beneath the covers.

"Good night," Hermione said, still upset about Harry. She rubbed her eyes tiredly — Ron's stumbling around in the dark had awakened her — and wondered how long it would be before he fell asleep. Only seconds later a snore from Ron's side of the bed gave her the answer. Hermione smiled wanly; the poor dear must really have been tired, to drop off that quickly.

She lay back on the bed, but continued to worry over the Harry problem. Ron wouldn't understand, but having Harry over there without the Americans' permission really was a problem for the Ministry. If Ron couldn't talk Harry into coming back, she might have to send someone more capable of doing the job — someone who wasn't so personally involved with Harry as Ron was.

What was really important was to get Harry and Ginny talking again, Hermione decided. That wasn't going to be easy if Harry refused to return to Britain. If she was going to get them together, it would have to be someplace neutral, where neither of them would feel at a disadvantage. To do that, she was going to have to spend more time with Ginny, to earn her trust again. Perhaps, by Christmas, she could arrange a meeting with her, Harry and Ron to celebrate the day, and have Ginny be there as well. It was the bare beginning of a plan, Hermione realized, but it would have to do for now. And she'd have to convince Ginny not to petition for Harry to be declared legally dead in the intervening time.

So much to plan, and everything so uncertain! Life certainly wasn't as easy as Hermione had imagined it would be, the day she met Professor McGonagall and learned she was a witch. She closed her eyes, still planning how to get Harry and his wife back together again, and eventually fell asleep listening to Ron's steady snoring.

**=ooo=**

At approximately that same moment in Gotham City, Zatanna handed Ron's wand over to Harry. "Brilliant," Harry sighed, looking at the wand with relief. "He'll be happy to get this back. He's had it for close to 20 years now."

"My pleasure," Zatanna nodded. "Just tell him to keep a tighter grip on it the next time he goes up against someone like Superman."

Harry looked at her apprehensively. "There are _more_ like him?"

"Well, not really," Zatanna laughed, leaning back in her chair. "He used to have a cousin named Supergirl, but she left for parts unknown, so he's kind of unique."

They were still sitting in Zatanna's parlor at the top of the staircase at the end of the long hallway that ran down the middle of Shadowcrest. Harry had barely finished looking around the room before she appeared again and literally pulled Ron's wand out of her hat. "Ready for the grand tour?" Zatanna asked him.

"In a bit," Harry demurred. "I'd like to ask some questions first."

"Alright, shoot," Zatanna said, settling back more comfortably in her chair. It was hard for Harry to tell if she was doing it on purpose, but her relaxed slouch made her look somehow quite alluring. She had said she wasn't trying to seduce him, but Harry couldn't be sure if she was doing what she was doing deliberately or being attractive and sexy just came to her naturally.

Either way, it wasn't going to be easy to be here alone with her.

Harry ran a hand thoughtlessly through his hair. "Well, this is kind of hard to put into words, but —"

"But I'm sure you'll manage," Zatanna interjected, smiling.

Harry sighed. "Are you sure you don't have any ulterior motives for me being here?" he blurted out.

Zatanna cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you detection any deception from me?" she asked.

"No," Harry admitted, "but —"

"But what? Do you think I'm managing to fool your detectors?"

"No, but —"

"Then your question doesn't follow. Like I said, if you intend to stay in America and get into the hero business, there are some things you ought to know before you go out there and start catching bad guys. Not the least of those things being a bit rounder education on offensive and defensive magic."

Harry bridled. "I did mention I was an _Auror_, didn't I? I passed the Qualification Examination and everything, Zatanna."

"Fair enough," Zatanna said. She folded her arms across her chest and looked him up and down appraisingly. "So you should be able to hold your own against me in a sparring contest, right?"

"Well — yeah," Harry agreed. Was she seriously challenging him to a _duel_?

"Alright, then." Zatanna stood, jerking a thumb toward the parlor door. "Let's go down to the exercise area and put that theory to the test."

Harry followed her from the room and down the stairs, where she led him to a door that opened into another stairway going down. At the bottom of those stairs was another hallway, and Zatanna went into the first door on the left.

The room they entered was the size of an auditorium, divided into several sections: a weight-training area with rows of dumbbells, barbells and some other pieces of equipment that looked more like modern torture devices than exercise machines. Next to that area was a wide open space where the floor felt more like foam than tiles. In the middle of this area Zatanna turned and backed several steps from Harry. As she stopped her scanty magician's costume transformed into a black leather jacket and skin-tight pants, with flat-heeled shoes that gave her better traction than the high heels she'd been wearing. The one thing she _didn't_ have, Harry noted, was a wand. "Show me your skills, Harry."

"Rules," Harry said, wanting to know how far she wanted to take this.

"Rules, huh?" She pondered for a moment. "Well, let's say that you have to take me alive, but I can kill you if I want to. I won't really, of course," she added as Harry flashed an _are-you-kidding-me_? look at her. "Isn't that how most Dark wizards operate in Britain?"

"Yeah, it is," Harry agreed, though he didn't add that as an Auror (back when he _was_ an Auror) he was authorized to protect himself with deadly force if necessary. But even the slight disadvantage of being unable to "kill" Zatanna shouldn't make it much more difficult.

Well, with no wand the Disarming Charm wasn't much use against Zatanna, but there were a lot of other spells at his disposal. Harry suddenly sent a Banishment Charm toward her. Caught by surprise, Zatanna slid backwards several yards before deflecting it. He sent a Jelly-Legs Jinx right behind it, but the jinx bounced off her leather pants. _Warded clothing_, Harry thought, just like his were.

Zatanna recovered and gestured toward him. "_Sniahc htiw dnib_!" she shouted, and metal chains were suddenly flying toward him. Harry sent a blocking charm, but at the same time he Apparated to a position at Zatanna's eight o'clock and about 10 yards away, casting an Icing Charm at her feet. A sheet of ice spread on the floor below her.

But instead of turning toward him (which would have caused her to slip on the ice) Zatanna crouched slightly then jumped straight up, vanishing as she did so. Harry instantly did so as well, and the two of them reappeared facing one another nearly 40 feet apart.

Okay, the preliminaries were over. Harry silently cast _Stuporfy_, the Swerving Stunner spell, at eye height to catch Zatanna off-guard. It was similar to a Stunner, but if it missed the intended target it would swerve _once_ to reacquire it. She dodged and the stunner changed course toward her face. But she managed to twist herself so her top hat caught the spell and bounced off.

"_Tsalb ria toh_!" Zatanna said, and Harry felt a hot wind slam into him. Like the Hot-Air Charm Harry knew, it was uncomfortably hot. He cast a shield to deflect the air. At the same moment he also cast a Cooling Charm on himself—now he could drop the shield and resume the offense.

"_Pot a ekil nips_!" The moment his shield went down Harry suddenly found himself spinning around and around out of control.

"_Finite_!" he shouted, barely managing to wandlessly break the spinning hex. He immediately Apparated to a position about 10 feet from Zatann's three o'clock, making the jabbing motion for the Silencing Charm. Her magic depended on her saying the spells — take away her voice and her ability to cast spells would be diminished.

Zatanna opened her mouth but nothing came out. She began to gesture toward her face but Harry's next wand motion sent ropes flying from his wand to bind her arms. He finished with an Obscuro Charm directed at her mouth — a gag appeared there, making it even more difficult for her to speak.

Zatanna stood there a moment, wobbling unsteadily, then began to topple onto her side. Harry wandlessly cast the Levitation Charm, lowering her gently to the ground. He walked over and crouched down next to her. "Give up?"

Zatanna nodded behind the gag and Harry vanished it. "Not bad," she said, standing as Harry offered her a hand up.

Harry grinned at her. "Considering I just beat you, I agree."

"Would you like to try for two out of three?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Sure, why n—"

"_Tsalb dloc_!" she said suddenly, and Harry gasped as he was suddenly covered with ice and frost. "_Sniach htiw dnib_!" she cast again, and this time Harry had no chance to block the chains that wrapped around him. He fell on the floor, helpless.

Zatanna stood over where he fell and pointed at him, her fingers mimicking a gun. "Bang, you're dead," she said, pretending to shoot him.

"T-that wasn't f-fair," Harry muttered, his teeth chattering, as Zatanna vanished the chains binding him.

"Right, because bad guys always fight fair," she laughed, smirking at him. The ice and frost covering him melted away and Harry got to his feet again. "Ready for the tie-breaker?" she asked. "I'll wait until you're ready this time…"

"Ready," Harry said, and immediately Disapparated. He reappeared on the other side of the sparring area, more than 60 feet from Zatanna. _Let's see how she does with long-distance attacks_, he thought.

But Zatanna had disappeared as well. Harry quickly erected a Shield Charm that surrounded him, then cast _Homenum Revelio_ to try and locate her. But there was no response from the spell. And his detectors told him she was no longer in the room. Had Zatanna left the sparring area? If so Harry was going to claim victory.

Suddenly his detectors went crazy. She was right next to him! "_Pirg gnikc_—" she began, reaching for him, but Harry instinctively Disapparated, avoiding her hands. He Apparated ten feet straight back, and immediately upon reappearing he sent a burst of magical fireworks toward her, hoping to dazzle and distract her for a moment. How had she gotten that close to him without his detectors going off? She'd almost had him then — he didn't want to lose this third duel to her!

Time to take the kid gloves off.

He Apparated again, reappearing about 20 feet further back and sending a Starburst Charm in her direction — basically a bright flash of light. If she didn't protect her eyes she would be temporarily blinded, and it gave Harry the opportunity to whip his Invisibility Cloak out of his pouch and throw it over himself. He Apparated again, this time to her eight o'clock and about 10 feet away, catching her still shielding her eyes from the Starburst.

_Incarcerous_, he non-verbally incanted, and heavy ropes shot from his wand at her, wrapping her from shoulders to knees. _Game over_, Harry thought as she fell over on her side. He was moving toward her, grinning, when she suddenly seemed to melt into the floor and the ropes crumpled, empty. What the hell? He froze, still beneath the Cloak, trying to figure out what she'd done.

"You must have that Invisibility Cloak on." Zatanna's voice sounded nearby but none of Harry's detectors were telling him where she was. "That is a sweet device — it makes you undetectable to me. Well — almost. There is one little flaw…"

Harry felt a sudden jolt of energy hit him in the groin and he fell over, stunned. Next to him, silvery and translucent, Zatanna rose up out of the floor. Her form returned to normal and she pulled the Cloak off him. She reached down and touched him on the shoulder, causing him to bolt upright, awake. He looked up at her, glaring as he held his lower abdomen tenderly.

"It doesn't completely cover you, does it?" she pointed out. "I was able to go down into the floor and come up beneath you."

"I guess you were," Harry groaned painfully. "Congratulations on winning the duel," he added, trying to be magnanimous.

"Thank you!" she beamed. She sat down on the floor next to him. "I hope you see why I think you need a bit of training."

Harry looked at her, then shook his head. But there wasn't really any denying it — he had expected to beat her handily, and yet she had taken him — twice. For an Auror that was humiliating, even if she didn't fight like any British Dark wizard he'd ever faced. "You may be right," he finally admitted. "How'd you pass through the floor like that?"

"It's called phasing," she said. "It's pretty handy when you need to move through a wall or even underneath it to avoid a magical ward. A lot of magical types don't think about an attack coming from below them. Your Invisibility Cloak, for example — it covers you from head to toe, but it can't completely surround you. I was able to look up from below and see where you were."

"And is that something you could teach me?" Harry asked.

"As long as you're willing to learn," she nodded.

Harry smiled. "I'm always willing to learn," he told her. He stood up, then offered her his hand again. She took it and rose gracefully to her feet, hardly seeming to need his help, but once she was on her feet she didn't let go of his hand. "Are you hungry?" Harry asked, after several seconds of just standing there. "I don't remember the last time I ate something." He frowned, remembering the time. "But it's probably too late to get something…"

"Don't be silly," Zatanna laughed softly. "We're in Gotham City. There's always something open here. Come on — it's my treat." Before Harry could open his mouth to suggest otherwise they both vanished.

**=ooo=**

The month of October seemed to fly by as Harry immersed himself in his new training regimen with Zatanna — studying ancient texts and spells, sparring with her, and delving into new and unusual magical realms. As powerful as men like Dumbledore and Tom Riddle had seemed to him as a child and even in adulthood as he studied his Auror training manuals, there were magics even more daunting lurking out there in the world beyond Britain.

Not long after he began training with Zatanna he received a letter from Ron. It arrived at his apartment in Smallville, which wasn't much of a surprise, since Ron had no way of knowing where Harry was staying now. He'd left the job at the Talon, but had kept the apartment, mostly in case Zatanna decided she didn't want him around anymore. But for two people who had started off on the wrong foot they were getting along pretty well now. She was still irritating sometimes; mostly now, it seemed to Harry, because she enjoyed telling him what to do. But Harry did want to learn and as the most powerful witch around, Zatanna seemed the logical person to learn from.

Harry found the letter on a Friday evening when Zatanna went to attend a meeting with some "friends," as she'd called them. She'd thought about inviting Harry along, she'd said, but decided she should run it past her friends before she brought him along.

Harry had shrugged, as if unconcerned, but he wondered who she was meeting. Not that it was any of his business, of course, but it would be interesting to see what kind of people Zatanna thought of as friends. He resisted the temptation to put a tracking spell on her, letting her go off to see her friends without any way of him finding her later. For his own part, it was an excellent opportunity to check in on his flat in Smallville.

There were a couple of small pellets in front of the door to his apartment. A calling card, Harry recognized, from the disgruntled owl who'd somehow flown from London to Smallville only to find no one home. _Sorry about that_, he thought, letting himself into the apartment to find a parchment envelope on the floor. He picked it up and read the address on the front.

_Mr. Harry You-Know-Who-You-Are_  
_The Apartment Above the Talon Coffee Shop_  
_Smallville, Kansas, U.S.A._

Harry smiled, amused by Ron's oblique reference to another You-Know-Who, and opened the envelope, pulling out the letter and reading it.

_Dear Harry,_

_Thanks for getting my wand back to me. I was afraid I'd have to find another one, and the new ones out there aren't as good as an Ollivander wand, you know. Hope things are going well for you these days. I gave Hermione the bad news and she seemed to accept it — we had a talk the day after I got back to Britain and she agreed to leave you alone for now. I think she hopes that we can get together sometime, maybe for Christmas, and just have dinner or something. I hope that's not out of the question for you, she said we could meet somewhere in Europe so you wouldn't have to come back to Britian. Anyways, think about it, mate._

Hermione hadn't been wrong there, Harry decided for himself. He wouldn't be going back to Britain anytime soon. He'd liked being in Smallville while he was there, and it was quite interesting living at Shadowcrest; there was no reason to return to Britain and have more abuse heaped on him by Ginny and the Wizengamot.

_Things around here could be better, I have to tell you. Lots of shady things going on now, our new Head Auror isn't quite as keen on keeping law and order the way you were. I suspect our nemesis "Goldilocks" is up to his old tricks again, now that he thinks he can get away with them. Well, when the Ministry realizes how much gold they're losing from import tariffs I think they'll start to crack down again. Time will tell._

Sure it would, Harry thought cynically. Britain didn't change much — it only changed hands every so often. The changes Minister Shacklebolt had made, the ones Harry had tried to carry on with when he'd been made Head Auror, they hadn't done much as people had hoped. Not deep down, where it counted. Men like Lucius Malfoy didn't change, they just put up new fronts as the people around them changed. It was another good reason not to go back — he'd had enough of Malfoy's flouting the law and the Wizengamot's acceptance of someone so corrupt in their midst. But then, most of the Wizengamot seemed to be in Malfoy's pocket.

_Your kids are doing well, Hermione's told me. She's over at Mum's pretty often now. She even said to tell you the next time I see you — Ginny's doing fine as well. I know you don't care, but at least she seems to have dropped the idea to have you declared legally dead by the Wizengamot, at least for now. Hermione's talked her out of that. She says they're getting better acquainted now they see each other at Mum's so often. Thought you might like to know that, Hermione says Ginny talks about you every so often, wonders how you're doing wherever you are. We haven't mentioned we know where you're at._

_Hope you'll think about lifting a glass with us at Christmas, mate — maybe we can meet in Paris or Athens. We know a few places that would be excellent for Christmas dinner. I'll owl you again before then, see what your temperature is. Until then, stay safe and don't let any of those super-blokes catch you with your knickers down. You know what I mean._

_Your best mate,  
__Ron Weasley_

Harry slipped the letter back into its envelope and put the envelope in his pouch, then went to the fridge and got out a bottle of beer—a Muggle bottle, one of a pack of six he'd bought a few weeks ago to have a try. The taste was different, given that it was supposed to be cold when you drank it, but it wasn't totally unpleasant. And it would help him think, or so he rationalized drinking it.

Hermione was talking regularly with Ginny now. Harry didn't know quite what to make of that. Hermione had been incensed upon learning what Ginny had done to him; had she gotten over that now or was there something else afoot? Hermione's friend Harry didn't believe she would be manipulative, but cynical Harry certainly saw her current behavior as suspect. Add to that Ron's rather blue-sky request for them to meet somewhere in Europe around Christmas time and something wasn't passing the sniff test here. Harry took a long pull on his beer, nearly draining it, and absently cast the Refilling Charm on it wandlessly so he wouldn't have to get another beer from the fridge.

Maybe if he did meet with Ron and Hermione at Christmas somewhere, he could persuade Zatanna to come along with him. Harry smiled — it would be _very_ interesting to see the look on their faces when he walked in with Zatanna on his arm!

Of course, things weren't going to go any farther with Zatanna, he reminded himself. He was still married to Ginny and he had no plans in the works to change that, whatever Ginny might be plotting against him. But maybe she was changing how she felt about him; Ron had said she'd talked about him in his letter. Perhaps she'd come to her senses and was ready to talk about why she'd been so mistrustful of him. In that case, if Ron and Hermione were setting him up to meet Ginny on Christmas with the idea of them getting back together, walking in with a beautiful witch on his arm might sour their plans. It would serve them right for being underhanded, Harry told himself, but if he could put his marriage with Ginny back together again, it would just about be worth losing his job and being exiled to America for half a year.

The refilled bottle was almost empty again. Harry contemplated, but decided against magically refilling the bottle again. He drained the last bit of beer from it and vanished the bottle. He stood and turned on his heel, Disapparating back to Shadowcrest to luxuriate in a hot bath, then read manuals on magic until Zatanna returned from her meeting with her friends.

**=ooo=**

At the end of October one of the most popular days in the Wizarding community was celebrated — the feast of Hallowe'en, also known as All Hallows Eve, and to a lesser extent as the day Voldemort was first defeated by a small child who would become known as the Boy-Who-Lived — Harry Potter.

The day had been overshadowed by the events of May 2, 1998, when Harry defeated Voldemort for the final time, giving that day the name of Harry Potter Day and leaving Hallowe'en with its own traditions. But witches and wizards in Britain still lifted a glass to the Boy-Who-Lived on that day, the day hope returned to Wizarding Britain.

This year Hallowe'en fell on a Sunday, which had allowed Hermione to leave Rose and Hugo at their grandmother's house for a weekend with their cousins that would culminate in a walk around Ottery St. Catchpole collecting treats from the inhabitants there. Largely a Muggle population, there were normal sweets and treats passed out at many of the houses, plus a festive gathering at the Muggle school were there was a "Fright Night" celebration going on, and children were dressed up in costumes of favorite characters from movies, televisions, and stories. Rose and Hugo would be with James, Albus and Lily as Molly took them around to collect their sacks of candies. Molly was particularly excited at meeting the other parents and grandparents in Ottery St. Catchpole. Arthur, whose love of all things Muggle hadn't waned, would be thrilled to catch a glimpse inside Muggle homes and lawns, seeing how eckletricity worked and made the lights on the porches glow so brightly. He had been working on a paper, a theory of how eckletricity was able to flow so rapidly that there was no time between a light switch was flipped and the light came on. He hoped to have it published in the _Journal of Muggle Discoveries_, a periodical that had gained popularity in the post-Voldemort years.

Hermione appeared just outside the gate at the Burrow. She had gone into the Ministry to review some briefs for the next day; with that done, she could join Ron and Ginny here for a quick supper before her children returned with their cousins and Nanna and the gorging on sugar commenced.

"I'm here," she said as she entered the kitchen, but there was no response from inside. Was anyone here, she wondered, glancing at the stove, where nothing was cooking in preparation for the meal they were to have. The only thing on the stove was a nearly-empty tea kettle.

But there was something in the kitchen that wasn't usually there. It was a broom. Not any broom, of course, but a Firestar Mark IV, the successor to the Firebolt series. Hermione was no expert on brooms, of course, but when your husband and his best mate regularly attended Quidditch finals and every Quidditch World Cup they could since 2002, you tended to pick up a bit on the subject. But _who_ would be visiting the Burrow flying a broom like that?

Hermione moved slowly down the hallway from the kitchen toward the living room. "Is anyone there?" she asked.

"In here, Hermione," Ginny's voice came from the living room. When Hermione entered the room, she found Ginny and a tall, brown-haired black woman sitting together sipping tea. "Hermione, this is Gwenog Jones, the general manager of the Holyhead Harpies. Gwen, this is Hermione Weasley, the Solicitor General for the Ministry."

"Hello," Jones said, standing to shake Hermione's hand. She was tall for a woman, able to look right over Hermione's head, and strongly built. Her voice was deep and throaty. "It's nice to meet you."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "We've actually met before. If you remember, it was at one of Professor Slughorn's Slug Club parties in 1996."

Jones grinned, remembering. "Yes, old Sluggy — it's been a while since I've thought about him, he hasn't asked for any tickets to our games lately."

_Still a bit full of herself_, Hermione thought. Aloud, she asked, "So, what brings you here to the Burrow on Hallowe'en night, Miss Jones?"

"Call me Gwenog," she said, sitting back down on the divan. "Oh, just having a cup of tea with an old friend," she said, waving a hand airily at Ginny, who beamed at her. "It's been a while since I've been over to see her — she's not home much anymore."

"I've been staying here since — since Mum wanted to see more of her grandkids," Ginny said quickly, glancing at Hermione. "Hermione, would you like a spot of tea now that you're here?" She moved to pick up the tea pot.

Gwenog reached forward quickly and took it before Ginny could get to it. "This has gone cold, Gin, why don't we put on a fresh pot for your sister-in-law?" She stood and walked into the kitchen with the teapot.

Hermione waited until she heard water pouring into the tea kettle before asking Ginny, "Where's Ron at? I thought he'd be here by now?"

"I told him Gwen and I were going to talk over old times and he decided to go up to his old room and look through some things he's got up there."

"Really?" That surprised Hermione. "I thought he'd jump at the change to talk to Gwenog Jones about Quidditch."

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe. But Gwen wanted to talk to me alone."

"About what?"

"I told you, just old times on the team," Ginny said, irritated. "It was no big deal."

At that moment Gwenog stuck her head back in the living room. "Oi," she said. "Gin, this should be time for you and your family, I don't want to intrude. Besides, I should be getting back to my girls."

"Oh, I hadn't heard you were married, Gwenog," Hermione said, surprised.

Gwenog gave her a cool look. "I mean the girls on the team," she said. "I'm not married. See you, Gin."

"Thanks for coming by, Gwen," Ginny smiled at her former teammate. Gwenog nodded and walked back down the hallway to the kitchen. A moment later they heard the back door open and close, then the sound of a broomstick leaving the ground.

Ron's head poked out from the staircase. "Is it safe to come down now?" he asked dryly.

"Come on down, Ron," Hermione said, gesturing for him to join them. "She just left."

"About time," Ron remarked as he stepped into the living room, giving his sister an irritated look. She looked back at him then giggled — one of his eyes was sporting a brilliant purple shiner.

Hermione looked up at him and frowned. "What happened to you?" Her eyes widened for a moment. "You didn't get into a _fight_ with Gwenog Jones —!"

"Of course not," Ron snorted. He jabbed a thumb at his black eye. "D'you think I'd let a bint like her —"

"_Oi_!" Ginny shouted.

"— put a hand on me?" Ron continued, ignoring her. "It was this." He held up a small brass telescope. Hermione looked at it and smiled broadly.

"Oh _that_," she said, beginning to giggle, too. "I'd forgotten about that thing! Apparently so did you."

"Very funny," Ron snapped. "I've got to find the bruise remover," he said to Ginny. "Do you know where Mum keeps it?"

"Probably in her pocket, the way Rose and Hugo fight," Ginny said, smiling. "They're worse than you two were, back in the day."

"I never hit her!" Ron objected loudly, pointing at Hermione. "She punched me in the arm a few times —"

"When you deserved it," Hermione interjected.

"And _you_," Ron leveled a finger at Ginny. "You and that bloody Bat-Bogey Hex —"

"Ron! Language!" Hermione said, annoyed.

"Alright, then!" Ron waved his hands, dismissing the subject. "When are we eating, then?"

"When you go in the kitchen and make something," Ginny snapped.

"Well maybe I will, then!" Ron snapped back. He stomped off toward the kitchen.

"When did Gwenog get here?" Hermione asked Ginny after Ron had gone.

"Oh, she happened to stop by a few hours ago, after Mum took the kids out for trick-or-treats. It's been a while since we've talked so I invited her in for some tea.

"Then Ron shows up and wants to talk about the last game against the Chudley Cannons." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Like the Harpies steamrolling those ponces wasn't the most obvious conclusion to the game!"

"Well, Ron's very loyal to the Cannons," Hermione said, surprised at the contempt in Ginny's voice for the team.

"He's an idiot, then," Ginny sniffed dismissively. "You'd think after 30 years he'd get a clue about how dreadful they really are!"

"Maybe," Hermione said, noncommittally, listening to the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen as Ron tried to fix dinner. "I think I ought to go help Ron with supper — he sounds a bit lost in there."

"Like most men," Ginny muttered. "Think they know anything but can't even cook a decent meal without someone supervising them."

Hermione shrugged, not knowing what to say to that. She stood and began to walk toward the kitchen.

"Oh, by the way," Ginny added just as Hermione reached the hallway, "I'm going to talk to someone tomorrow about getting Harry declared missing and presumed dead."

Hermione froze. "Oh," she said, turning back to her sister-in-law. "What, um, changed your mind about that?" Not two weeks ago Hermione and Ginny had a long talk about this and Ginny had agreed to wait until the beginning of the year before reconsidering that petition.

"I decided I'm tired of waiting for that _man_ to grow a spine and come out from wherever he's hiding and face me," Ginny said hotly. "He's run away like the spineless ponce he is and is keeping me from taking proper care of my children. I'm not having it anymore, Hermione!" She pointed an accusing finger. "And if you know where he is, it's your _duty_ as Solicitor General to see that he's brought back here to face me! _Do_ you know where he's got off to?"

"No," Hermione quickly lied, surprised at the vehemence in Ginny's voice. There had been none of this anger evident in her when she and Hermione had their last talk about Harry. Ginny had seemed almost receptive to the idea of reconciling with Harry then! What had changed? Did Ginny's meeting with Gwenog Jones have something to do with it? "You know," she went on, "I could put some Aurors on Harry's trail, if you like. See if we can find him before you decide to put that petition into the Wizengamot."

"Haven't you already tried to find him? He's your friend, after all?" Ginny asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Unofficially, yes," Hermione admitted. "But there's only so much I can do by asking around."

"What about Ron?" Ginny lowered her voice so it wouldn't carry to the kitchen. "I know he's against me when it comes to Harry — oh, you don't have to look surprised," Ginny retorted as Hermione's eyes widened and she involuntarily shook her head. "They're men — they all stick together when it comes to women. I know Harry's told Ron about all his sleeping around on me! They can't help it!"

"I — don't think that's…true," Hermione said, though her voice faltered. She remembered how Ron had described finding Harry holding a young blonde woman when he finally caught up to him — and in a nightclub in a large American city! Harry had always protested his innocence about Ginny's accusations of infidelity but that had not looked good from Hermione's viewpoint. "Ron hasn't said anything to me about Harry cheating on you."

"You're protecting him," Ginny said accusingly, standing and moving close to Hermione in a confrontational stance. "I told Mum that you couldn't be impartial about this!" Ginny jabbed her finger into Hermione's chest. "If I hear you're giving him legal advice against me I'll bring charges against you for obstructing justice! Don't think I won't! Now get out of my way!" Ginny pushed Hermione back and rushed up the stairs and out of sight.

At that moment the back door opened and Rose and Hugo rushed into the kitchen, followed closely by James, Albus, Lily and Molly. "We're home!" Molly called out, tired but happy. "Ron, is that _you_ making supper?! Give your old Mum a hug!"

"Hello Mum," Ron's voice said. Hermione, still startled and upset by Ginny's words, remained in the hallway trying to control the emotions that were threatening to spill out of her. "Hi Dad," Ron went on, as the door opened a final time and Arthur entered.

"Hello, Ron! How are you?" Arthur's voice replied. "We had a fascinating time tonight — absolutely fascinating! I've gathered quite a few observations for my paper tonight — I should go jot some of them down before I forget!"

Hermione turned and hurried through the living room, walking out the front door onto the Burrow's smallish porch. She didn't want Arthur to see her — she didn't think she could convince him nothing was wrong, not the way she felt right now.

Hermione covered her face with her hands, barely able to keep herself from weeping in frustration and helplessness. Whatever was happening to Ginny, she had to think Gwenog Jones had something to do with it — the connection between them was just too much to be a coincidence. But what would Jones get out of a separation or divorce between Harry and Ginny? Could she want Harry for herself, for some reason? The woman had never married, but she was 12 years older than Harry!

And Remus had been about as many years older than Tonks, Hermione remembered. Twelve years in the Wizarding world wasn't that large a gap. But, no. That seemed too unlikely. Jones had always seemed self-centered to Hermione, and she had a proven record of contempt for men, especially those who questioned her Quidditch abilities. There had to be some other reason.

Hermione took a deep breath, composing herself, and resolved to get to the bottom of the Ginny-Gwenog mystery. For now, however, she would go inside and see her children again, and hopefully get supper back on track, if Molly hadn't already taken over. Ginny's assessment of Ron was far from spot-on, but she was right about one thing — he wasn't that great a cook.

**=ooo=**

"What do you think we should do tonight?" Harry asked Zatanna. It had been several weeks since they'd done anything other than studying and sparring, and even in a place as large as Shadowcrest he was starting to feel a little stir-crazy.

Zatanna looked up from the scroll she was reading. "We just did something a month ago." She had made the house visible to normal people for one night and they had answered the door and handed out treats to the costumed kids who'd showed up at the door. "Weren't those children just so _cute_ in their little Superman and Batman costumes?"

Hearing Zatanna sound so gushy about children made Harry feel uneasy on several levels. Zatanna just didn't seem much like a motherly sort of person, for one thing. He'd also never seen so many children dressed up like costumed vigilantes. Back in North London around Grimmauld Square kids mostly just put on old sheets or made witch's hats from old paper sacks or just wore shabby clothing and put white paste on their faces to look like Inferi — wait, in America Muggles called them zombies.

And on a deeper level, he was missing taking his own children out trick-or-treating. "Sure they were cute," he agreed with Zatanna. "But that was a month ago, like you said. Can't we do something tonight?"

"What would you like to do?"

"Well, I'm sort of hoping you'll suggest something," Harry said, dryly. "I mean, this is your country, you know. What do you do around this time of year?"

Zatanna thought for a moment, then smiled. "Well, this is Thanksgiving Day," she mentioned. "We could go out and have dinner somewhere."

"What's Thanksgiving?" Harry wanted to know.

"What's _Thanksgiving_?" Zatanna raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, that's right. You _lot_ —" she emphasized that British turn of phrase "— don't celebrate Thanksgiving over in Britain, do you?"

"We've got Hallowe'en and Christmas," Harry said reasonably. "How much more celebrating do we need?"

"Have it your way," Zatanna laughed, "but I _would_ like to get something to eat. And maybe afterward —" She smiled suggestively at him, "we can have a look around town, perhaps try out some of that magic you've been working on for the past month."

"Really? Tonight?" Harry had wondered when she was going to let him use the magic he'd been learning. "This must be some special night."

"Well, for the place I have in mind, it will be." She stood and spread her arms. "_Raew lamrof ni sserd_!" Her jeans and sweat shirt shimmered and transformed into a long black evening dress with a plunging neckline. The trainers she'd been wearing had changed into black pumps, adding a couple of inches to her height. "How do I look?" she asked Harry.

Harry was nodding appreciatively. "Very nice," he said. "I hope I can come up with something appropriate." He took out his wand, thought for a moment, then said, "_Induvas formalis_!" His T-shirt and jeans became a tuxedo and dress slacks complete with a cummerbund, bow tie and top hat. "How's this?" he asked, turning around so she could see.

"The hat's a bit much," Zatanna remarked. "It makes you look like the opening act at Club Magic Hall."

The top hat vanished. "Happy?" Harry asked her, a little peeved. The hat had been a nice touch, he thought.

"Better," Zatanna nodded. "I wish we could do something with that hair…"

"My wife used to say that," Harry laughed, then sobered when Zatanna didn't join in. "Well, she did," he muttered, wishing he'd said nothing.

"You look wonderful," Zatanna beamed, ignoring the remark about his wife. "I think you'll like the place I have in mind, it's new and very elegant."

"I'm looking forward to it," Harry said, smiling. Zatanna's enthusiasm could be contagious. And truth to tell, he was a bit hungry now that he'd thought about it. Zatanna gestured and they disappeared from Shadowcrest, appearing a moment later outside a restaurant.

"I made us invisible for the moment," Zatanna said softly as they watched a Bentley drive up and stop at the curb. The chauffeur, a thin, older man with a pencil–thin mustache, opened the door and a tall, black-haired man exited the vehicle, then held out his hand and a stunningly-beautiful blonde emerged, both dressed even more regally than Harry and Zatanna. The couple entered the restaurant as Zatanna watched, a frown creasing her forehead. "Hmm," Zatanna murmured.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, wondering what she'd seen that had upset her. As far as he could tell there was nothing unusual about the two people who'd just entered the restaurant, other than they looked very rich.

"Nothing," she said, smiling at him (a forced smile, Harry could tell). "I was just thinking about some things I have to take care of tomorrow." _Or tonight_, Harry added to himself; he could feel some urgency radiating from her. "Here we are at _Les Tours_, the newest five-star French restaurant in Gotham. It's been open only a few weeks and already dining here is restricted to by invitation only."

"Impressive," Harry said, studying the restaurant's front. The doors were solid oak and the scrollwork on them looked hand-carved. "How did you manage to get an invitation?" Zatanna laughed softly, as if the answer was obvious. "Of course — by magic, no doubt."

"Actually, a good friend sent one to me," she said, holding up a hand. With a flick of her fingers a card appeared: the invitation. "In fact, that was him just now who was escorting that _woman_ inside." There was a hint of anger in her voice as she said that, Harry noted. Was Zatanna feeling a bit jealous, Harry wondered. But the emotion had dissipated before Harry had a chance to study it further. "Shall we?" she asked, gesturing toward the restaurant.

Harry held out his arm and Zatanna took it, the two of them approaching the restaurant as Zatanna canceled the invisibility spell concealing them. She gestured once again and the doors opened on their own as they approached. "Nice touch," Harry murmured near Zatanna's ear as they walked inside.

At the end of a short hallway the maître 'd stood, stiff and formal, awaiting them. Zatanna handed the invitation to him. The maître 'd studied it a moment. "Very good, mademoiselle, monsieur. Please follow me."

He led them to a section with a few tables placed relatively far from one another, then held the chair for Zatanna as she sat down. "I will inform our head waiter that you have been seated," he told them. "It is our pleasure to serve you this evening." With a bow, he handed each of them a leather-bound menu and wine list and quickly left the room.

Harry glanced around unobtrusively. The only other people in the room were the man and woman that had entered the restaurant ahead of them. Harry noticed Zatanna seemed to be ignoring them now as she carefully scanned the menu. He invoked Supersensory, then picked up his menu and pretended to study it as he observed them. The young blonde was talking about her activities prior to meeting for dinner, and while the man seemed to be listening to her, Harry could see his eyes moving across the room, memorizing and analyzing his surroundings. If Harry didn't know better, he'd think the man had had Auror training. But there was no indication he was anything but a Muggle —

Interesting. There _was_ a third magical in the room, Harry realized. It was the dark-haired man's blonde companion. Did she and Zatanna know one another, Harry wondered; could that be the reason why Zatanna wasn't happy to see her with the dark-haired man?

Their server arrived, the head waiter as the maître 'd had promised. He introduced himself as Armand and asked if they would like to begin with an aperitif. "A glass of Sauvignon Blanc, please," Zatanna said immediately.

"I'll have the same," Harry added. Armand nodded and left the room again.

"This is a very nice restaurant," Harry said, to divert Zatanna's attention from ignoring the other couple back to him. "How did you find out about it?"

"Oh," Zatanna murmured in a distracted tone. "Someone tried to rob the place the night it opened. Some guy in a red hood. I was here with —" she hesitated a moment "— my date for the evening, and when the man brandished a weapon I neutralized it and my date knocked the man out."

"Interesting," Harry said, watching her. Zatanna was usually eager to tell him her crimefighting stories, but she seemed almost reluctant to relate this one. "How did you neutralize the gun, if I may ask?"

"When he tried to fire it I turned it into a toy that shot out a sign that said BANG," Zatanna said. "Then Br— my date, that is, hit him in the face, knocking off his hood. The police came and took him into custody, but we heard later that he managed to escape custody."

"I see," Harry said softly. "So that was one that got away, then?"

"From the _police_," Zatanna added quickly. "If we'd taken him in he would still be in police custody."

"'We'?" Harry echoed. "Was your date a crimefighter, too?"

Zatanna looked up at him sharply. "Did I say that he was?"

"You just implied it," Harry pointed out. "And this happened only a few weeks ago?"

"What?" Zatanna looked surprised by that comment.

"Well, you told me this place has only been open a few weeks, and this robbery you just mentioned happened on opening night," Harry pointed out. "I'm just making sure I understood that you were on a date here a few weeks ago."

"I don't see how that's any of your concern," Zatanna said, in an annoyed tone. "You're just at Shadowcrest to learn magic from me. Nothing more."

"I agree," Harry nodded, and Zatanna snorted, becoming very interested in the menu once again. Harry opened his as well, moving it between them to hide his smile.

Armand returned with two chilled wine glasses and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, which he opened then presented the cork to Harry, who glanced at Zatanna for a moment before sampling its bouquet and nodding. Armand then poured each of them a glass. "Would you care to order now or after _l'aperitif_?" he inquired.

"Now is fine," Zatanna said. She looked at Harry. "I'll order," she said flatly. From her tone Harry could tell it wasn't a suggestion. "For _l'entrée_ we'll have the French onion soup, and the boeuf bourguignon for _le plat principal_. We'll decide on dessert and coffee after we finish."

To his credit Armand didn't give Harry a look of pity or commiseration as he bowed, took their menus and left the table. After he was gone Harry made an attempt at smoothing things over. "Zatanna, I'm not trying to upset you —"

"Fine," Zatanna said shortly. "Then stop talking. That's the best way not to upset me." Harry followed her advice, settling into his chair to wait for her to get over her snit. Normally very easy-going, Zatanna could become quite fierce when her temper was aroused, Harry had found. Seeing the dark-haired man with a blonde woman who was also a witch had obviously set off something in her.

Over at the other table the mystery man and the blonde witch were sharing their _entrées_, a cheese soufflé and partridge _terrine_. Harry watched with Supersensory but kept his eyes on Zatanna, waiting to see what she would do next.

"Sorry," she finally said with a small sigh. "I just didn't expect that seeing my— seeing Bruce — with another woman would affect me like that. I'm not jealous, really, I'm not," she insisted. "He's an old friend — my father trained him years ago in escape techniques — and he and I have known each other a long time.

"But that witch he's with is no good for him," Zatanna continued, with a smoking glare in her direction. I'm sure she plans on landing herself a billionaire for a husband."

"A billionaire?" Harry's eyebrows went up. "You know a billionaire?"

"That's Bruce Wayne," Zatanna said. "He's the CEO of WayneTech, the advanced technology company."

"And you want me to think he's a crimefighter, too?" Harry said, skeptically. "Come on, Zatanna."

"Don't talk so loud," Zatanna hissed in a low tone. "He's probably listening to us right now!"

"I'd like to see him try," Harry retorted. "I put up a Silencing Charm around us after Armand took our order. Besides," he added, noting the attention Wayne was paying to the blonde with him. "I think he has someone else he'd rather pay attention to."

Zatanna shrugged but still shook her head. "You underestimate Bruce. He's always a step ahead of everyone around him. The man is an absolute genius. I'll have to introduce you sometime after you're okayed for the League—" she abruptly cut herself off.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Harry frowned. What "league" was she talking about?

"Sorry, Freudian slip," Zatanna said. "Some other crime fighters and I think once you've had some training you could become a part of our group and help fight crime with us." She stopped talking as Armand approached the table with a tray and two bowls of soup. He placed a bowl before each of them, along with a basket containing French rolls, then bowed again and left the room.

"When were you planning on telling me about this 'group' of yours?" Harry asked, irked at her secrecy.

"When you were ready," Zatanna said, smiling at him as she daintily sampled her soup.

"You don't think I'm ready now?" Harry persisted.

"You're really close," Zatanna nodded. "I think by the beginning of the year —"

"What if I decide not to join?" Harry interrupted. "What if I want to fight crime on my own?"

Zatanna shrugged expressively. "Suit yourself. But you're giving up access to a lot of technology that can give you an edge in the crime-fighting business."

"Supplied by your boyfriend, no doubt," Harry sneered, nodding toward the other couple in the room. "Is he your one-stop tech shop when he's not out on a hot date?"

"Oh, grow up, Harry," Zatanna snapped. "You sound as jealous as you all but accused me of being!"

"Reading my thoughts again?" Harry muttered, though he knew it was his own fault — he sometimes dropped his Occlumency shields around Zatanna.

"More like you're throwing them out there for anyone who can receive a thought," Zatanna corrected. "I thought you were working on not doing that!"

"Excuse me," a new voice suddenly interjected. "Zatanna?"

Harry and Zatanna, both startled, turned to the new voice. It was Wayne and his blonde companion, who had come over from their own table.

"Oh! Hello, Bruce," Zatanna recovered quickly. "How are you?"

"Very well," Wayne said. His voice was deep but quiet, Harry noticed. He stood to shake hands with the man.

"Harry Evans, Mr. Wayne," Harry said, extending his hand. Wayne shook it with a firm grip. Harry could sense the strength in it — suddenly it didn't seem so unlikely that he could be a costumed crimefighter. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Wayne said, smiling. Harry smiled as well, though his detectors could feel secrecy and deception radiating from the man. "A friend of yours, Zatanna?" he asked, though his eyes never left Harry's.

"You could say that," Zatanna answered in a neutral tone. Her eyes went to Wayne's companion. "And I don't believe we've met yet, Miss —"

"It's Marguerite," the young woman said, a haughty smile on her lips. "Marguerite Theroux, from Castelnau-de-Montmiral, in France."

"When I told her about this restaurant she insisted on coming here," Bruce said, smiling at her.

"I see," Zatanna said, her voice neutral.

The blonde fixed her gaze on Zatanna. "And you are?"

"I'm Zatanna," she answered, gazing back at the woman. There was a long moment during which no one spoke.

Finally Bruce spoke up. "Well, I've been called into the office," he said, looking apologetically at Marguerite, whose expression became pouty. "I know you two are enjoying your dinner but I hope I can impose on you to allow her to join you for the remainder of your meal. And please allow me to pay for your dinner here tonight."

"Of course, Bruce," Zatanna said, beaming, to Harry's surprise. "I'd love for Marguerite to join us."

"Excellent," Bruce said. He took Marguerite's hand and kissed it lightly. "I will see you again soon," he said, and left the room.

Harry, who was still trying to figure out what was going on, offered Marguerite a chair, who sat down without thanking or even looking at Harry. Harry resumed his seat, wondering what was going through Zatanna's mind at the moment. Her expression looked completely emotionless, but Harry knew she was suppressing her anger at this woman.

Armand entered the room and brought Marguerite's food from the other table. Before he could set it down, however, she spoke in an imperious tone. "That food is cold now — prepare me a new one!"

"As you wish, Madame," Armand replied, bowing and hurrying from the room.

"Well," Marguerite smiled, seemingly enjoying herself, "what shall we talk about now that I'm here? Perhaps you would like to hear how wonderfully Bruce has been treating me since we met?"

"Oh, I think I can guess," Zatanna retorted. "Since he's come under your spell he's been lavishing attention and gifts on you every day, to the exclusion of everything else."

"_Oui_," Marguerite agreed, her smile almost feral. "_Certainement_! I hope you are not too jealous, my dear."

"Of _you_?" Zatanna laughed scornfully. "Hardly, if the only way you can get a man is to bewitch him. I'm sure Bruce will be none too pleased to learn you've cast a spell on him, forcing him to fall in love with you."

"Not that you will live to tell him!" Marguerite said, suddenly extending her hands toward both Harry and Zatanna. Violet light burst from her fingertips, hitting them and hurling them away from her.

Harry flew backwards, but stopped before he hit anything, slowed by a Cushioning Charm. The wards he'd learned over the past month with Zatanna had prevented the spell from harming him.

Zatanna was already attacking Marguerite. "_Erif htiw dnib_!" she shouted, and a fiery whip shot from her hands toward the blonde.

But Marguerite gestured and vanished in a flash of violet light. The whip vanished as well. "The bitch ran away," Zatanna snarled. "I should have guessed she'd do that!"

"Who the hell was that?!" Harry wanted to know.

"Just like she said," Zatanna answered. "Her name is Marguerite Isobel Theroux. She's a witch from the 16th century who was burned at the stake, but not before enchanting a spell book with the power to bring her back from the dead."

"A Horcrux," Harry said, almost to himself. "Have you fought her before?"

"No," Zatanna said, "but I know someone who has. He's not going to be happy that she's back."

"Who's that?" Though it seemed like Harry could guess the answer already.

Zatanna looked at him. "You're broadcasting your thoughts again," she warned him. "So you know who I'm thinking of. But keep that under your hat, okay?"

A top hat appeared in Harry's hand. He placed it on his head. "You got it," he said, smiling. "So what do you want to do now?"

"We'd better leave," she said, waving her hand around the room. The broken chairs repaired themselves and slid beneath the table they'd been sitting at, and the food and plates that had fallen on the floor leaped back onto the table. There was an acrid scent of ozone in the air from Zatanna's flame whip — she made a spraying gesture with one hand and it went away. "A hundred and fifty should cover the bill," she said, tapping the tabletop. "And be sure to leave Armand a good tip. I'll see you back at Shadowcrest. I've got to get ready to go after Theroux." She vanished.

Armand entered the room at that moment and stopped short, seeing only Harry there. "What happened to the ladies?" he asked, confused.

"They had to go powder their noses," Harry said, taking out his wallet. "We've got to leave anyway," he went on, pulling out two one hundred dollar bills. "Great job tonight," he told him. "And keep the change," he added, handing the bills to Armand.

"_Merci_," Armand said, looking at the money, still confused.

Harry left the room and walked straight through the restaurant to the exit. Whoever this Theroux woman was, she was not a good person. And she was using her magic for evil, which made her Dark. And that meant Harry and Zatanna were going after her, to stop her. Finally, he was going to get a chance to put the magic he'd been learning to good use!

There was no one around. Harry vanished, using the Teleport spell Zatanna had taught him. The chase was on!


End file.
